


'Til Sunbeams Find You

by Bluebluebaby



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Camp Counselor AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebluebaby/pseuds/Bluebluebaby
Summary: Jen/Judy 90s Summer Camp AU (bc canon stresses me out and i just want our girls to be happy and not running from the prison industrial complex)Jen is a ball of grief, anger, and self-loathing when she arrives at Camp Beach Haven for the summer. Will she work through her shit, or just explode on a bunch of kids who only want to learn to dance?
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 234
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i truly truly wanted to write something post s2 in canon but the muse? wanted YA college camp counselor fluff.

This is not the summer Jen planned at all. 

She was supposed to be doing ABT’s collegiate intensive, but apparently having a verbally aggressive breakdown last year was grounds for being permanently banned from the program, dead mom or no. 

So her boyfriend’s mom had called in a few favors (“Ted will be on tour all summer- what are you going to do, just sit around and be useless?”) and gotten her a last-minute gig as a dance instructor at a summer camp. 

In fucking _Maine_ . _Eight_ hours away from the city. 

She’s honestly not sure which is worse- Lorna having something to hold over her head for all eternity, or being stuck in Bumfuck, Middle of Nowhere for 10 weeks. 

(Probably the first one- the advantage of being in Bumfuck, Middle of Nowhere is that Lorna probably won’t bug her until the end of the summer.) 

Camp Beach Haven is… well, an exaggerated name. It labels itself as “a creative arts community for young free spirits,” which is a woo woo way of saying it’s a place for all the would-be artists and performers who couldn’t get into any summer program with a degree of prestige. 

Much like herself, at this unfortunate point in her budding career, so, _tou-fucking-ch_ _é_.

_

Jen’s greeted at baggage claim by a man with friendly smile and open arms- he introduces himself as Pastor Wayne, though he’s quick to explain (when she says “hold up- this is a Jesus camp????”) that he merely serves as the resident mental health support, but that his training is in chaplaincy, and he’s taken the summer off from his hospital job to come to this camp. She would have initially guessed his age as anywhere between 30 and 40, but apparently he’s only just out of grad school, a former camper made good. 

It’s an hourlong drive to camp from the airport, and Wayne fills the time easily with his soothing voice.

“I play a pretty mean acoustic guitar, too. You’ll have to hit up the fireside jams on the weekends.” 

Jen nods absentmindedly, staring out the window at the endless evergreen. 

“Beach Haven is definitely a safe space for our campers, but I think a lot of times the staff get what they need out of the experience, too. Sometimes we all need a fresh start.” 

So Lorna did give them the whole fucking backstory on her, then. 

“Or our family’s money has all gone to medical bills and NYU tuition won’t pay itself.” 

He laughs gently, like a pat on the back from her grandfather when she was a kid. 

“Sure, that, too.” 

_ 

For all that Pastor Wayne causes Jen’s eyes to roll involuntarily, she prefers him to Director Perez. 

Years later, when Jen looks back on this summer, she’ll realize that the gulf between her 21 to Perez’s 32 is a lot closer than it seemed in the moment. But now, she’s old, out of touch, and doesn’t take kindly to newcomers. 

“Karen will show you around camp, you’ve got until 5 to get your cabin set up, orientation this evening, then our first week of campers arrives at 9 am tomorrow. Lateness to meetings will negatively affect your break opportunities over the course of the summer. Got it?” 

Jen nods, eager to be away from this woman and her constant negative judgment. 

Until, that is, she meets Karen, who talks a mile a minute about absolutely nothing and keeps gushing about how _exciting_ it is to have a new counselor, almost everyone else was here last year and it’s not that they’re not great, Karen would just love to have a real girl’s girl to hang out with and take Cosmo quizzes and paint their nails, you know? 

(Jen’s gotten really good at absent-mindedly nodding)

“Right, so each cabin has two counselors in it, for a 1:6 ratio of staff to campers, as per state regs. It looks like you’re paired up with Judy for the summer, but I’m right next door, so we can definitely do hangs after lights out!” 

“Sounds great, Karen, thanks.” 

“Do you need help unpacking or-” 

“I’m fine. But I’ll see you at the meeting later?” 

“Cool beans. Yes! Totally!” 

Jen takes a minute to flop down on the empty mattress. 

The cabin is basically one giant room full of bunk beds, with a small enclave in the back for the counselors, separated by what appears to be a shower curtain. At least there’s some sort of barrier between them and the campers. 

This “Judy” has already claimed her half of the space, and she looks to be a full-blown hippie if the tie dye and incense sticks are any indication. 

She grabs her plain, dark sheets and begins to make the bed, unpacks her clothes and places them in the chest of drawers along her wall. Another perk of power- storing her clothes outside of her duffel bag. 

_ 

The mess hall is filled with bright, young, attractive college kids, most of whom appear to know and like each other. Jen stands in the back, glaring at anyone who looks at her with too much curiosity. 

She’s not, as they say, here to make friends. 

Perez gives them a quick pep talk about their important role in their campers’ lives (and Jen will give her credit here- she actually gives a damn about the campers, even if she has ambivalence towards her employees), before explaining the daily schedule to everyone. 

“Breakfast is at 7. Group instruction goes from 8-12 each day. Lunch is 12-1. 1-3 is leisure time, campers have the choice of swimming, hanging in their cabins, or solo practice, followed by second block of group instruction from 3-5. Dinner is at 5, evening all-camp activities from 7-9, and lights out is at 10pm every night. Got it?”

Everyone nods, but Perez focuses her attention on one counselor, who’s happily whispering something in the ear of her neighbor. 

“Ms. Hale, do you have any questions for the group?”

“Oh, no, I was just saying how good it feels to be back!” 

From anyone else, Jen would assume this is bullshit-as-alibi, but from ‘Ms. Hale.’ it seems perfectly sincere. 

Huh. 

Jen’s never felt good to be back _anywhere_. 

_

They do a few counselor introductions, ice breaker games that will help them get the kids out of their shells as well. 

Karen is an acting instructor, along with Steve, who certainly has the narcissism for the stage. 

Ms. Hale, is in fact, Judy, and she teaches visual art, along with Ben, Steve’s twin (although Jen gets the since there’s a bit of a sibling rivalry there. Or maybe a sibling bullying, with how Steve casually puts down his brother at every opportunity). 

Jen’s partner-in-teaching-the-youth-of-new-england-to-dance is Christopher (not Chris, _never_ Chris), and it’s nice to know that no matter where in the world she travels, there will be a gay man there with her to do lifts. 

Nick leads the music program (although it appears much closer to rock camp than Interlochen,) and also doubles as the camp lifeguard on the rare occasions when campers have time to swim. 

There’s a few “floating” staff, as well- Perez arranges the big activities and supervises everything else. Apparently she’s notorious for her sets a karaoke night. 

Pastor Wayne checks in with every camper, and is the go-to mediator when the inevitable crises of having a bunch of teenagers in an enclosed space attempting to express themselves occur.

There’s apparently one other new staff member this year, as well, in the kitchen. Michelle is a young chef who’s “lending a hand to an old friend” (she winks at Perez when she says this, and the director… actually smiles? Definitely gonna have to unpack that later), and specializing in farm-to-table recipes directly from the camp’s garden. 

Jen had thought she would be the cool one here, you know, actually being from the city instead of a community college in New Hampshire, or whatever, but, with the exception of Karen, she feels straightlaced and buttoned up in comparison to everyone else. She stumbles awkwardly in an improv game, only to recover with a vicious retort that seems to split the group’s reaction- Michelle looks quietly impressed, Judy is open-mouthed and wide-eyed, Christopher is delighted, and the straight boys cower in fear. 

Fuck it, she’s never been good at playing nice. 

_

Judy approaches her as they wait for their final debriefing before bed. 

“Jen, hey! I was wondering when my roommate would show up! Bunkmate? Cabinmate? You know what I mean. I’m Judy, it’s great to meet you.” 

She holds out a hand, and it’s warm and solid compared to Jen’s pale, clammy one. 

Judy looks like she belongs at summer camp year-round- no wonder she’s glad to be back. 

Paint-spattered jeans, well-worn hiking boots, a flannel artfully draped around her waist for the cool nights on the coast. She even manages to pull off french braids, which, past the age of fourteen is really something. 

A part of Jen wants to hate her, the way she’s always hated people who feel at ease in this world that prickles and pokes her at every opportunity, but Judy’s just too… nice. Like, friendly in the way people are when they have nothing to gain, which is another thing she’s never really understood. 

(The only person who’s ever been truly here for her was too busy getting sick from chemo to listen to her cry about boys, or take her shopping for a prom dress. And her dad, well, he tries, but his own broken heart didn’t have much room for a surly teen who had all the anger in the world and no where to put it but right back onto him. It’s easier this way, apart and alone with their own grief. )

Jen shakes herself out of her stupor, realizing Judy is looking at her expectantly.

“Sorry- long travel day, what was that?” 

“Oh! I was just saying that you seem like a way better dancer than the last girl we had- I’m pretty sure she lied her way into the job, and the kids did the electric slide for the final performance.” 

Jen chuckles. 

“You haven’t even seen me dance.”

“Yeah, but like, you’ve got the uniform and everything! Leggings, bun, those weird too-big shirts like Jennifer Beals wore in _Flashdance._ It’s in your body, the way you move, too much grace not to be magic on the dance floor.” 

“So you’ve been watching me, hmmmm?” 

“What can I say, you’re very watchable,” she winks. 

They get their marching orders for the night, and meander back to their cabins as a group, before parting ways, guys and girls. 

(For the first night, at least, there will be no fraternization. Not while Perez is still ever-vigilant.) 

Karen attempts to institute a hang between them (Michelle has apparently been roped into serving as her cabin co-leader, on top of dining hall duties, but she’s stayed behind talking with Perez), but Jen begs her off, citing fatigue. 

But despite her best efforts, sleep eludes her. 

Judy’s been quiet, respectful (unlike Karen, who Jen is sure would be happy to talk into the dark for hours just to feel less alone), but she senses the tension from across the room, and turns on a small lamp. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just, wired, I guess.” 

“It’s hard to sleep that first night away, you know? Um, if you want, I can get you up to date on all the camp gossip, and that’ll either bore you to sleep or you’ll have valuable information to use for whatever purposes you see fit.” 

“That sounds great, Jude, thanks.” 

Jen doesn’t know where the nickname comes from- she’s not a nickname person (other than her own, because Jen is what cool, above-the-fray dance goddesses call themselves, okay), but it feels right, easy, to let it slip out. 

“Okay, so… I started coming here as a kid, when I was 10- my folks had gone and they thought it would be nice to send me, all the way from California. And I loved it so much I started working here as soon as I could- so that would have been 3 years ago. Steve and I (and Ben, too), we met in junior high and have sort of had this on-again, off-again summer fling, although I’m pretty sure it’s off for good.” 

“He seems like an asshole.” 

“I mean, kind of? But also, very sweet when he wants to be. And like, majorly hot. You see my struggle! Anyways, last year, Nick was new, and we hooked up when Steve and I were on a break, but it ended kind of… messily. I might defer beach duties to you, if that’s okay. At least to start with.” 

“Whose heart haven’t you stomped on, Judy Hale?” 

(Jen doesn’t understand how people can just, like, hook up, and move on with their lives like it was nothing. She met Ted her freshman year and that was it, you know? She tries not to think too much about how he hasn’t written or called in the two weeks since his band left town.) 

“Shut up. Anyways, Karen is kind of exhausting, but actually like a really good friend if you can get past her nervous energy. I’m trying to get her to smoke weed, maybe that’ll help. And Christopher is really high strung but it seems like that might work for you two? No offense.” 

“No lies there.” 

“Pastor Wayne is honestly the best. He listened when I told him about all the Steve stuff and never told anyone. And like, I don’t go to church or anything, but he’s good about talking about god without necessarily talking about god? Or not talking about god at all- he’s good to talk to, if you have like… heavy stuff, and don’t want to be a buzzkill.”

Jen can tell from Judy’s admission that she, too, has ‘heavy stuff,’ but asking about hers would be an invitation to reciprocate, and Jen is absolutely not going to be able to do that. 

“Anyways, it’s very possible everyone’s relationship situation has changed over the past year, but like, you’re _stupid_ hot so you know, get that summer lovin’ on, girl!” 

“You’re a weird person.” 

“You love it.” 

Jen doesn’t think about why she didn’t respond to Judy’s statement with “I have a boyfriend,” because that would keep her awake all night. Instead, she lets Judy’s mellifluous laugh lull her to a deep, silent sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to go ahead and get some Judy POV in while the iron's hot! 
> 
> This chapter's a bit shorter- now that the world-building is established y'all have a lot of dialogue and internal monologues to look forward to lol

It’s a long drive, from LA to Bar Harbor. Judy drives each year, because a)she likes the adventure and b)there’s no way she can fit all her personal art supplies on a plane. Besides, having a car at camp is an easy way to find friends, and Judy takes advantage of anything that makes people like her. 

She’s got her binder of CDs, a passenger seat full of junk food, and an intimate knowledge of the least skeezy, yet still affordable hotels along the I-80 corridor. 

Her last foster family had sent her here, when she was 14, because they noticed how much she loved drawing and painting, decorating her room with an impromptu mural, and since she’s aged out of the system, Beach Haven is the closest thing she has to a family. 

Some people travel cross country for Christmas or Thanksgiving- she does it for camp. 

She’s one of the first to arrive on-site (much to Perez’s eternal frustration), and will probably be the last to leave, taking the middle of August to get back home before the fall semester starts. 

Judy _ loves _ it here- the rocky beaches, the tall pines, the constant threat of rain. For all that LA sparkles and shines, there’s something refreshing about being in a place that looks like it could be legit haunted, you know? She’s thought about staying here, waiting tables in Bangor or something, but she’s not ready to truly cut that cord with her mother- it’s like… she owes her her proximity, in penance for putting her inside in the first place. 

The chance to reinvent herself out here, though, it’s appealing. 

As are the new staff this summer- not that Judy doesn’t already love her coworkers (even Karen- she thinks her friendliness is really just sweet, deep down), but she’s constantly searching for new connections in a closed-off world. Michelle has a mischievous glint in her eye that Judy hopes means she has someone to share a joint with, and Jen, she’s… different, that’s for sure. 

She kind of acts like she doesn’t want to be here, actually, but Judy’s always been drawn to prickly things. Like the misshapen cactus she’s nurtured for years, or the combative feral kitten she soothed into a cuddly housecat. We all just need some affection and room to grow, at the end of the day. 

Jen, at least, seems to tolerate Judy’s presence much more than Karen’s, which she’ll take as a win (sorry, Karen. It’s not you, it’s  _ definitely _ Jen). 

_

Once the kids show up, there’s not a lot of downtime for breaking down emotional walls- the first few days are always filled with random first-aid mishaps and bouts of homesickness from the campers. In Judy’s experience, Wednesdays are where things start to shift- the campers have formed their own bonds and need a little less hand-holding, and the counselors feel comfortable enough to give the kids breathing room. 

Jen opts for a divide-and-conquer strategy where cabin activities are concerned- she heeds Judy’s request and takes care of accompanying kids to the beach, while Judy volunteers to help in the garden. 

“The watermelons won’t come in until July, but I think we’ll have a good amount of zucchini and cucumbers this week.” 

Michelle smiles up at her, tossing her hair back in that effortless cool-girl way. 

“Do you think I could acquire some blackberries to make dye? We’re trying to include more eco-friendly options in the art department this year.” 

“Fine by me, if you pick them.” 

She tosses Judy a bucket, but helps her anyways, making small talk. 

“So, art, huh. What’s your medium?”

“Paint, mostly, but, I like anything as long as I can create. Photography, pastels, I mean, I daresay I’m something of an artist in the kitchen.” 

“I might have to sub you in one night, then,” Michelle chuckles, “that kitchen has like, zero ventilation. I’m drenched in sweat by the time plates are up.” 

(Judy… does not mind that visual, at all. She’s got a feeling hot and sweaty looks like, _ really good _ on Michelle.) 

“No way, your food is too good to turn down.” 

Michelle pops a berry into her mouth, grinning. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Hey, you’re the one with the car, right?” 

“Wow, and here I thought you liked me for my personality.” 

“Oh, I do. And I have a feeling your personality lends itself to hotboxing?” 

“I would be offended by your presumptions if they weren’t entirely accurate,” Judy laughs. 

“Thank god. I drove up here with Ana, and she makes a lot of exceptions for me, but they do not extend to making her car smell like weed.” 

“Lucky you, mine already does! I actually make my own pipes, you know, using ceramics for practical purposes.” 

“My kind of woman,” Michelle winks. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone call Perez by her first name. You two must be… close?”

(The question kind of feels like a no-go, but Judy has always had an insatiable hunger for knowledge paired with a sixth sense for clandestine relationships.) 

“I don’t want it to be weird….” Michelle trails off, “but you seem cool, and if all else fails I can definitely blackmail you on the weed thing, so, yeah, we’re kind of exes. But like, it’s cool, she’s more like family at this point, and my mom probably likes her better than me, anyways, so, it felt like the right thing to do to help her out.” 

“Oh,” is all Judy can matter in response. “I mean, I think gay is beautiful, I just, you’re so chill, and she’s so… not chill.” 

“Opposites attract, right?” 

Judy thinks of tightly-wound Jen, and then regards the relaxed, bronzed goddess in front of her. 

“I think I’m more of a ‘birds of a feather’ gal, if you catch my drift.” 

_

Judy loves kids- she’s not ready, of course, but some day she’d really like to be a mom, maybe make up for all the rough parts of her own childhood by giving her kids unconditional love and support, and the knowledge that they are so, so, _ so _ wanted. 

She’s got a few tricks up her sleeve for deescalating the worst conflicts of middle schoolers, but she’s found the best way to handle kids is not to handle them at all- they just want to be treated like the full people they are, even if their bodies aren’t finished growing. 

Jen kind of treats the girls in their cabin like aliens, like she doesn’t understand their joy and silliness (or sudden bouts of tears). 

Maybe she doesn’t. Judy gets the vibe that Jen didn’t get to have much of a childhood, for whatever reason (it’s probably a much different one than her own, regardless). 

After she’s let the girls pick their nightly before-bed album to listen to (They opted for Simon & Garfunkel’s  _ Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, & Thyme _ , which means they’ll sleep super well tonight) Judy joins Jen for her evening smoke break and attempts to offer a bit of friendly advice. 

“You doing okay?” 

“Peachy,” Jen exhales, bright white against the dark blue sky. 

Judy’s never cared for cigarettes- the smell, or the taste, but Jen makes a great argument for the necessity of powerful Surgeon General’s warnings. Or maybe she’s just the type of person that makes everything look cool and sexy- Judy had spent breakfast the other day wondering how she could make cutting up a grapefruit look like edgy and avant garde. 

“We have a really great group of kids, you know?” 

“They don’t seem particularly special to me? Kids are kids.” 

“I just mean, like, if you get to know them, they’re really interesting. Phoebe can identify any bug at camp, and Chloe knows how to play “Baby Got Back” on the cello.They’ve all got great personalities if you sit and talk with them for a bit. “ 

Jen’s eyes flash hot with anger, and despite Judy’s attempts to be gentle, she’s clearly touched a nerve. 

“Are you trying to tell me I suck at my job? Because you can just come out and say it, if that’s what you mean.” 

“I’m just saying, they think the sun shines out of your ass, and if you give them a little attention they’ll do anything you want. And then you can like, relax more.” 

Jen arches an eyebrow, suspicious but intrigued by these possibilities. 

“Okay, now you’re speaking my language. Um, I’m sorry for blowing up at you I just… don’t trust most people’s motivations.” 

“It’s okay. If you want, once they’re asleep I can show you where the secret staff TV is- there’s a  _ Facts of Life _ rerun on at pretty much any time of da.” 

“Fuck, I love that show.” 

Judy grins. 

“I used to play pretend that Tootie was my best friend when I was little. I moved around a lot, it was like she was the one constant. You’ve kind of got a Blair vibe going, if I’m honest.” 

“Fuck you! I’m Jo- Brooklyn born and raised, will fuck you up at the drop of a hat.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

Jen takes another long drag, shivering against the breeze. 

“You didn’t expect it to get this cold.” 

It’s a statement, not a question. 

“The city bakes in the summer- there’s too much concrete for anything to ever fully cool down, and at some point you run out of clothes to take off.” 

“Let me run back inside- I think I have something that will fit you.” 

Judy rummages through her things, trying to find something that’s neither too colorful or too ratty to suit Jen. She settles on an old green army jacket- cool but not ostentatious. 

Jen rolls her eyes but accepts the gift.

“What, are we like going steady now?”

Judy sticks out her tongue. 

“Some people just say ‘thank you’ when someone does something nice, you know.” 

“Thanks, Jude. I appreciate it. Now, about those reruns?” 

Judy laces their fingers together and leads Jen through the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that cares, i'm setting this story in 1997 bc a)what an era for music and b)it's roughly realistic for the Jen and Judy we know in canon. Natch, I'm choosing to make Michelle a bit older bc that 16 year age gap between her and Perez kind of squicks me out, ngl. 
> 
> anyways, kindly suspend your disbelief and join me in the golden age of Lilith Fair!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booze runs and beach parties; that which dreams are made of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: drugs and drinking and talk of sex and such.   
> (i mean, this is m rated, but ya know, be warnd). 
> 
> Songs and lyrics belong to their respective writers, as does dead to me belong to liz feldman!

Beach Haven has… some nice things, Jen has to admit. 

For one, it doesn’t smell like hot trash. New York is many things, but fragrant in summer is not one of them. 

And, the counselors are actually pretty okay. With the exception of Steve- that guy is a fucking dick. But Jen finds that she gets along with everyone, which, is a rarity these days. 

Nick chats with her as they supervise the campers on their break. It’s not much of a swimming area- rope and old buoys against a dock in the inlet, where the waves are gentle. It’s still cold as hell, but when you’re twelve, that’s not so much a deterrent. 

“So, you’re rooming with Judy, huh.” 

“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ around a mouth full of chewing gum (she’s been trying to cut back on the smoking, since she can’t do it in front of the children).

“You should watch out for her. She seems really nice, but I dunno, she manipulates people.” 

“Are you saying this because she cheated on you? Because I don’t think we’ll have that problem, bud.” 

“She didn’t… she’s just… Judy follows her heart, but she doesn’t always take other people’s into consideration.” 

“Why come back here, then, if there’s so much bad juju?” 

“You mean, why be the only Black dude at a camp in rural Maine? Where I got left for Mr. White Supremacy over there?” He gestures towards Steve, who’s showing off his backflips for an adoring crowd of tweens. “I must really need the fucking money.” 

“I’m here because I broke a $6,000 glass mirror and told a bunch of ballerinas to slit their wrists on the shards,” Jen shrugs. 

“I may or may not have also been placed on involuntary leave from my other job. Got too high and thought the guns at the lazer tag place were real.” 

Jen blows the biggest bubble she can. 

“So, we’re all a bunch of undesirable fuckups.” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

“Sweet.” 

Nick informs her that after the campers leave at 5 pm on Friday, it’s customary for staff to throw a rager. And, as one of three folks over twenty-one (one of whom is Perez, so…), the easiest way for her to make fast, lifelong friendships, would be for her to buy the booze. 

“I mean, we’ll all chip in, but with a legal ID, comes social responsibility.” 

“I don’t have a car. I don’t even drive.” 

“Get Judy to take you. She owes us,” he grimaces. 

_ 

After the parent showcase (which Christopher assures her is always a hot mess during the middle school weeks- “They don’t have any awareness of their bodies until puberty, it’s just the way it is”), Judy tracks her down, notepad in hand.

“You survived your first showcase! Congratulations!” 

“I won’t forget the little people that got me here. What have you got there? Leading a private investigation on who cut the cheese during Steve’s monologue?” 

“Ha! No, this is our order form.” She holds out her other hand, which is filled with cash. “I have a big trunk, so if we play our cards right we won’t have to make another run until the mid-summer break.” 

Jen peruses the list. 

“Who the fuck drinks orange wine? What is this, the Golden Girls?” 

“Karen’s gonna Karen. Honestly, I’ll take that over Ben’s Jaeger anyday.” 

“As long as it’s not Everclear or Keystone Light, I suppose I’ll manage.” 

“Perez’s rule is that drinking only happens when campers are gone, which, duh, but we tend to go pretty hard, as a result. I make great hangover pancakes, though.” 

“You think Michelle’s gonna let you in her kitchen?”

“Oh, she’ll let me into her kitchen, alright,” Judy winks. 

“Why doesn’t she get the liquor. Isn’t she like, 23? And has access to a car? I could be taking a fucking disco nap right now.” 

Judy shrugs. 

“Just because Perez looks the other way when we all get sloppy doesn’t mean she wants her vehicle used to do it.” 

“Wait, she and?”

“They’re like, exes? But maybe also roommates? It seems kind of messy, and also, I probably shouldn’t have told you that, I think that’s maybe a betrayal of confidence.” 

“I don’t give a fuck. I’m not from here, remember, I know gay people actually exist. And we’re at a fucking arts camp. It’s like, homosexual head start.” 

“No, I mean, just the maybe nepotism parts? I really like Michelle, I don’t want people to treat her differently because of her connections, you know?” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“Why do you always say that?” 

“What?”

“It’s okay. Some day, it’s not actually going to be okay.” 

Judy pouts. 

“Yeah, but like, this isn’t actually that big of a deal. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

Jen frowns. 

“But you’ll tell me? If it’s ever actually,  _ not _ okay?”

“Sure.” Judy looks around, ensuring that the last of the campers have vacated the premises and they’re officially free of child-watching responsibilities. 

“Shall we?”

_

Judy blasts  _ Jagged Little Pill  _ on their drive into town, windows rolled down and belting loud. 

Her singing voice is nice, not too showy, but strong. Jen smiles out the window as she taps her hands to the rhythm. 

“I can’t believe you don’t know this song.”

“I’ve heard it, like, once or twice, but my boyfriend hates Alanis, so most of the time we’re together I just end up listening to his music.” 

“Which, let me guess, is like, all dude rock. Wait, you have a boyfriend? How have I known you- I’ve  _ lived _ with you a whole week and I didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” 

“I’m not one of those girls who only talks about her boyfriend, okay? And we’re, I don’t know, in a bit of a rough patch, I guess.” 

“Tell me about him.” 

Judy turns down the stereo, which means a lot at this point in the album- Jen wonders if she’ll skip back to the songs they missed later, or just let it roll back through to the beginning. 

“Ted’s a musician- we met when he played in the pit for a ballet I was doing freshman year. He’s a really great guitarist- he’s on tour with his band all summer.” 

Judy nods, forming her mental image of him in her head. 

“How’s the sex? Wait- don’t tell me you’re waiting for marriage.”

Jen laughs. They’d hooked up at a cast party and been a couple ever since- she’s not the type to fret over morality. 

“It’s good.” (She neglects to mention that he’s treated her like if he touches her she’ll shatter, since her mom died. Most college kids don’t have yearlong dry spells  _ while _ they’re in relationships. But back when they did have sex- it’d been enjoyable enough, sure.) 

“You told me what he does, but what do you  _ like _ about him?”

Jen pauses. It occurs to her she’d never really crushed on Ted- they’d had chemistry, and he was cool and desirable, and if she hadn’t dated him one of the other dancers would have, so getting with him felt like winning a prize. But now, for the life of her, she can’t articulate why she wanted it in the first place. 

“He’s… got a sensitive side. That’s rare, you know?”

This was true, even if she had scrambled to come up with it. Ted was good at listening to the tears, the processing, even if something about witnessing her grief made him stop seeing Jen as an object of desire. But then again, Jen doesn’t feel desirable anymore. She feels like something’s broken deep within her, that will never ever be fixed, and that he’s probably right to recoil at her touch now. 

She realizes that they’ve parked in front of  _ Lillie’s Liquor Land _ , that Judy’s staring at her with something that looks a lot like care. It stings, poison nettles against her paper-thin skin. 

“Alright. Let’s go. I don’t want to spend one more fucking minute in this creepy fucking store than I have to.” 

_

Jen had forgotten how  _ nice _ it is to be drunk. 

She’s floating on a lovely buzz of Jack and Coke, because whiskey feels like the outdoorsy choice, and she’s _ embracing  _ this fucking place tonight. 

Nick’s built a bonfire a couple hundred feet back from the water, and he and Jen are dancing to Judy’s boombox (she’s made a different mixtape for every week, apparently- right now they’ve jumped from “Dancing with Myself” to “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” to “Dancing in the Dark,” and it’s clear Jude was working from a theme). 

Nick hums the lyrics into her shoulder, beer on his breath. 

_ There’s a joke somewhere and it’s on me  _

_ I’ll shake this world off my shoulders _

_ Come on baby, this laugh’s on me  _

Steve nudges Nick, who glares, but is also too far gone to do anything but move away and keep singing. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

Judy steps out of the shadows of the pines (with Michelle not far behind and the smell of pot strong in the air). 

“She’s got a boyfriend, Steve, lay off.” 

It’s like the proverbial needle scratch on the record- though the song continues, unchanged. 

_ You can’t start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart.  _

“Jen has a boyfriend?” 

“Why didn’t she ever mention him?”

“Sounds fake, but okay.” 

Steve steps a bit closer, the glint in his eyes less charming from this distance. 

“That true, Jen?” 

She swallows, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, we’re just doing the long distance thing this summer. I know you’re devastated but I’m sure, with time, your heart will heal.” 

He smirks like he’s in on the joke, but she can tell he’s furious at being embarrassed (even if literally no one but them cares- everyone else has moved on by now to witnessing Karen and Christopher’s masterful lipsync of Cindy Wilson and Fred Schneider on “Dance this Mess Around” and honestly, Jen would much rather be doing that than whatever this is.) 

Steve stalks off to do another kegstand, and Judy’s right there at her side. 

“I’m sorry about that, he’s, I don’t know, he kind of thinks he’s god’s gift to women. And, in his defense, he does have a  _ really _ big dick, I’m not gonna lie.” 

Jen snorts. 

“Shame I’m not a size queen, then. Shouldn’t you be doing blowbacks with the chef in the forest, or whatever?”

“That sounds like the world’s worst game of  _ Clue,  _ but ahem, thanks for shaming me for enjoying the wonders that nature has to offer!” 

“What, pussy?” 

(Oh no, Jen’s too drunk. Stupid drunk.) 

“Shut up! We haven’t even kissed. Do you think she likes me, though?” 

Judy looks at Michelle through the corner of her eye- she’s chatting with Nick but her mind seems to be elsewhere.

“Who wouldn’t like you, Jude?” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

There’s a sadness there in her eyes, that feels a lot like a mirror to Jen. Maybe in a sober state, she’d open up, talk about her *shudder* feelings, but right now, the buzz is going and the beat is right. 

“Listen, I firmly believe you’re gonna have the sapphic summer fling of your dreams, but right now, I’m going to do what I do best, and honor your tireless work on this mixtape, and fucking  _ dance. _ ” 

So she does- with Christopher, pushing each other to greater feats of drunken athleticism; with Karen, injecting a fury into “Gonna Make You Sweat” that honestly, is cathartic as hell, and with Judy, when the fire’s died down and the first rays of the sun are coming up over the horizon and everyone else has gone back to their cabins. 

They lean against one another, wobbling more than moving with any sort of grace or direction. 

“I hate the Beatles,” Jen mutters into Judy’s hair, which smells of woodsmoke and patchouli. 

“Mmmhmmm.” 

_ There is really nothing else I'd rather do _

_ 'Cause I'm happy just to dance with you _

“If you had to listen to Ted analyze the brilliance of Abbey Road, you’d hate them too.” 

“Mmmhmmm.” 

“We should go to bed.” 

“Mmmhmmm.” 

They pour ice water on the fire, gather the boombox, and trudge back towards the cabin. 

At the time, sharing Judy’s bed makes sense- it’s three feet closer, after all, and they’re just. so. tired. 

And through the haze of smoke and alcohol, Jen lets herself be rocked to sleep, as Judy hums “Blackbird.” 

She can never tell if Judy’s being an asshole on purpose, or if she just follows her mental tangents without realizing they’re annoying. But it’s nice, the song, at this moment. It’s nice to be held by someone who’s not afraid to have her close. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to shout out my girl shandy in this chapter <3 we love our grim queen

Judy wakes up to a splitting headache and the warm weight of Jen sprawled on top of her. 

_ Wouldn’t have pegged her for a cuddler.  _

She takes a minute to adjust to consciousness, counting Jen’s soft snores one by one before the tingling in her arm demands a change of position. 

Jen grunts, covering her eyes, before giving up on sleep and turning the full force of her ire towards Judy.. 

“Unnnnnnnnggghhhhhhhh”

“Can I get you a coffee?” 

“Hnnnnnnnnnggggg.” 

Judy takes that as a yes, and begins walking towards the dining hall. 

Staff are on their own for food on the weekends- it’s a lot of cereal and cold cuts and occasional trips into town for a pizza run, but there’s always fresh coffee, lots of it. 

Judy’s clearly not the only one feeling the effects of last night- she passes Nick shuffling back towards his cabin, too out-of-it to even think about giving her a dirty look. 

Pastor Wayne sits on a rocking chair on the porch, calm and content (he’d made a brief appearance at the fire last night, but left at a more than reasonable hour). He looks happy, to be alone. 

“Morning, Judy.” 

“Enjoying god’s creation?” 

(She doesn’t know why she says that- like, she believes in the universal hum, and that sometimes things happen for a reason, but she’s only been to church once, on Easter, with her second foster family. Is it good etiquette, to acknowledge someone else's very personal beliefs in small talk? )

“Wonders never cease,” he smiles, pointing to a hummingbird that’s floating above a daylily in the garden. 

Judy takes a moment to appreciate it through bleary eyes, torn between this beauty and her obligation to Jen (and her own desperate need for caffeine). 

“Go get your coffee- I sit here most mornings, though, if you’d ever like to join me after a quieter evening.” 

“That’d be nice- I can’t believe I’ve never sketched out here.” 

“We often overlook what’s right in front of us, don’t we?” 

_

Jen doesn’t even say “thanks” when Judy gives her the coffee (and a bagel, and a banana. Sometimes you’re too far gone to make the pancakes you’ve promised, which feels like a metaphor for life, or something). 

But as the caffeine hits, a slightly panicked look appears on her face. 

“Judy… did we sleep together?” 

“I mean, literally, yes, but we didn’t have sex. Trust me,  _ I’d have remembered _ if we had had sex.” 

“Ew. I mean, no offense, or whatever, but I’m not gay.” 

“Neither am I,” Judy winks. 

(It’s technically true- although the bigger issue here is probably her compulsive flirting, but a little flirting never hurt anyone. Flirting makes people feel wanted, and  _ everyone should feel wanted. _ )

“You’re weird.” 

“God, I thought you’d  _ never _ notice.” 

“These bagels are a crime against New York City.” 

“I’m sorry, would you like for me to drive you 8 hours to get something nicer, or would you like to eat the carbs you have in front of you?” 

Jen grunts around a mouthful of bagel and they finish their breakfast (if it can be called that) in silence. 

It’s not long, however, before Perez reminds them that, not only do they have to disappear all traces of alcohol before tomorrow, Sunday is deep-clean-the-cabins-and-toilets day. 

_ Wonders never cease _ , indeed. 

_

Ben and Judy trade leadership duties each week, and rotate what media their campers focus on. Some kids come back for multiple sessions (though weekends are, blessedly, kid free, regardless of how many weeks a kid comes to camp), so they try to give them as many artistic opportunities as possible. 

Judy started the summer with painting, and will rotate out Ceramics next week. Ben specializes in photography, and dabbles in sculpture on the side. 

Most of the younger campers lean into the silly and the absurd- neon colors, goofy inside jokes, replications of their favorite cartoons, but there’s one girl, Shandy, who prefers the macabre. 

She convinces her peers that her photo captures a ghost, rumored to be a drowned camper who went down in an undertow in the 1920s. 

Judy doesn’t  _ not _ believe her. 

Her own photo work is less creepy (Ben suggested they each learn from the other, so they could take a new skill set back to school in the fall, and do more mixed media work), at least she thinks. 

She can’t figure out the cohesion, though. 

Her painting themes are clear (childhood trauma made sweet and non-threatening), but photography requires a different form of introspection. 

She has a great shot of Wayne’s hummingbird, a bug hovering on the surface of a rain puddle,, and the triptych ends with Jen, holding a ballet pose. 

She doesn’t know the photo exists (and she’ll probably be pretty mad if Judy shows it, but it’s so good she can’t  _ not _ ) , but she’s looking through the camera, her body still and graceful but her eyes burning with intensity. 

Michelle joins her in the studio on Thursday, volunteering to help finish the final exhibit for parents tomorrow. 

“Is one of your poor little photographers in love with Jen? Won’t be the first time, won’t be the last.” 

Judy blushes. 

“Those are mine, actually.” 

“Ahhh, that makes more sense. Though the composition was too good for a pre-teen. The question still stands, though.” 

Her eyes gleam with that perpetual mischief that makes Judy sit on her hands when they smoke, and smile into the dark as she falls asleep most nights, but there’s also trepidation there- like she sees something Judy can’t from inside herself. 

“I find her compelling- like the other subjects here: precarious stillness. It could all fall apart at any moment.” 

Michelle nods, accepting her vision, and Judy is suddenly glad she’s only included the one shot of Jen, not the dozen other proofs that had ended up discarded. 

(She has an objectively artful face,  _ okay _ . And photographing  _ Michelle _ would have  _ really _ gotten Perez’s goat. Which Judy never does intentionally!)

“I’d like to shoot you, though.” 

Michelle pulls a polaroid camera out of her bag.

“No darkroom required.” 

She puts her arm around Judy, positioning the lens back at them to capture their poses. They start with funny faces, then serious eyes, and then, Michelle leans in to give Judy a short, sweet kiss while she snaps the shot. 

“I’ll hold onto these,” Michelle whispers, “Wouldn’t want to corrupt the youths.” 

“No, no, we wouldn’t want that,” Judy mutters into her fingertips, holding onto the memory of the contact.

_

“What the fuck are you so happy about,” Jen queries around a cookie, holding out the box of Entenmann’s for Judy to share. 

“Can’t a girl smile around these parts?”

“You look like fucking Snow White, and I’d rather not have a family of Bluebirds helping me get dressed every morning, so spill.” 

“Okay, so, you know Michelle?” 

“The only woman named Michelle here? Yes, I believe I know her.” 

“She kissed me. We kissed.” 

“You kissed Perez’s ex.”

“Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds awful! She’s her own person, Jen. And a lovely one at that, so, like, maybe be happy for me for two seconds?” 

Jen softens, squeezing Judy’s hand. 

“I am, Jude. I just want you to be careful. You don’t deserve to get dragged into anyone else’s drama, and we both know Perez barely tolerates you, as-is.”

“I know, I know, I just wanted to walk on clouds for a little bit longer,” Judy sighs.

“She’s nice. You deserve something nice,” Jen looks away, uncomfortable, before returning to her de facto prickliness that Judy’s grown rather fond of over the past two weeks. “Shouldn’t you be, like, canoodling in secret or something, then?” 

“Nah, I wanted to celebrate with my  _ best friend _ . “

“What, are you gonna make us charm bracelets during jewelry week?” 

“If you play your cards right, babe.” 

_

Judy tries to sleep, but she keeps dwelling on Jen’s question. 

Why  _ did _ she go straight to Jen instead of trying to find Michelle again? 

Why does she care so much if Jen approves of her decisions? 

And why does her tiny fucking bed feel way too big now? 

(Just because the answers are clear doesn’t mean she’s ready to see them.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i've fudged some of the analogous details from canon- in my defense, summer camp time is an entirely different metaphysical universe from "the real world." Shit moves fast! even in the 90s!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i own nothing, except my encyclopedic knowledge of american popular music.
> 
> (the single alluded to is "building a mystery" because the album didn't drop until july 15 1997 and ur gurl is nothing if not historically accurate with her silly hobbies, honey!!!)

Mail comes on Fridays. Some people get elaborate care packages (Karen’s boyfriend sends her artisanal soaps and body butters, which, doesn’t seem like typical straight male behavior, but who is she to judge), Judy gets long, hastily scrawled letters from her neighbor Abe, updating her on the social happenings of their apartment complex (of course Judy would be BFFs with a senior citizen, fucking weirdo). 

Jen gets a postcard from her father (easy cop out, because you can only write so much on a 3x5. “Love you! Miss you! Have Fun!” like their relationship isn’t a cloud of sorrow and mutual resentment), and, surprisingly, this week, a letter from Ted. 

_Hey babe!_

_We picked up a last minute date in Portland on June 28th. You should come up if you can- bring some friends and we’ll put you on the guestlist. Got a new song in the set I wrote for you._

_Xoxo_

_-ted_

She stares at the paper, running her fingers over the flyer he’d thrown in with the venue and address. 

Ted hasn’t called, but she can’t really blame him- any time he would have access to a phone she certainly wouldn’t, and with him being in a different town every night, he’s got unilateral control over the flow of communication. 

Judy peers over her shoulder, taking the flyer from her hands. 

“We should go, Jen! We could take a couple others with us in my car, and meet Ted, and maybe go shopping or something in Portland before the gig.” 

Jen hesitates. 

She wants to see Ted- wants to fight the paranoia that he’s completely forgotten about her- but she’s not sure she wants him to meet Judy. 

Jen doesn’t have a lot of woman friends- she has dance colleagues, and she hangs out with Ted’s friends’ girlfriends in big groups, but there’s something special about her relationship with Judy she wants to keep all to herself. 

That, and, Judy might do something unintentionally mortifying, fucking weirdo that she is, and all. 

“Sure, if we’re not too tired. I mean, it is a 3 hour drive each way- he probably doesn’t really expect me to show up.”

“All the more reason to surprise him! How romantic!” 

Judy’s face lights up, and she starts talking about getting hotel rooms so Jen can get her conjugal visit on, and Jen doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Ted can barely tolerate being in the same room together in the apartment they share, and that this trip would be symbolic. 

But Judy loves metaphors- when Jen dances, she’s just… dancing, but through Judy’s eye, her body carries the weight of the world: _Sisyphus in arabesque_. 

“If you want, you can give him that photo,” Judy offers. 

_All Ted would see in it is a dancer._

_

Jen had hoped her perpetual restlessness would settle after the first few weeks of being here. But more days than not, she wakes too early, with the urge to scream or break something. So, she runs out her anger. Some days, Karen joins her, chattering away as Jen pushes ahead; most days she’s alone, but today, Christopher and his too-clean running shoes join her. 

“I’m tired of you showing me up in front of all these middle schoolers,” he explains, when Jen interrogates his intentions with a look. 

“Suit yourself.” 

He’s annoyingly fast, despite his claims of hating running, so Jen is forced to keep company. 

“I like you, Jen, but sometimes you scare me.” 

“Okay, well, fuck you too, then.”

He sighs, and Jen accepts that he was only trying to be friendly. And that maybe she’s kind of bad at actually being a friend. 

“You don’t have to, like, give me your full tragic backstory, but you seem kind of on edge this week. Everything okay?” 

She’s out of breath and so very tired from trying to pretend like she’s not a goddamn mess every day for the past two years, so Jen answers honestly.

“Let’s see- my mother died two years ago and it makes me so angry I want to break everything I see,, my boyfriend acts like I’ll shatter if her actually touches me, and instead of dancing with the country’s most prestigious ballet company this summer, I’m fucking _here_ , so yeah, things are positively swell, Christopher.” 

Funny thing is- she instantly feels better just by saying all of that aloud. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, your tap work yesterday was like, Ann Miller good. I can’t imagine how incredible you’d be if you had a stable emotional foundation.” 

“Ass kisser.” 

“Fine, don’t take a compliment!” 

“Thanks, then,” she mutters. “What’s your baggage, since we’re sharing, apparently?” 

“Internalized homophobia, mostly.” He looks over the water as he forms his words. “I’ve found my soul mate but I can’t even tell my parents I’m gay.” 

“No offense but… they don’t already know?” 

“Never underestimate the importance of stating the obvious, Jennifer. Just because my parents have no evidence to support a straight son, doesn’t mean they won’t ignore anything that’s not an irrefutable declaration.” 

“I’m sorry. That sucks.” 

“And it’s not just them- there’s my whole church family, and my childhood friends, and… it’s hard to be a different person than everyone wanted you to be.” 

“You’re a Christian?” 

“Listen, all those shirtless Jesus paintings were influential!” 

But Jen can tell behind the glib his faith is sincere. 

“Okay, whatever, just don’t fucking pray for me. Or if you do, don’t tell me about it.” 

Christopher shrugs, his tone turning conspiratorial.

“I have a theory that every single counselor here is like, coming from a lowkey tragic backstory. _Everyone_ has a skeleton in their closet. Rumor has it Karen’s fiance hooks up with guys on the downlow, Ben had gnarly heart surgery as a kid, Steve, well I think Steve has probably created skeletons in other peoples’ closets that guy is a malignant narcissist if ever there was one…” 

They’re back at the cabins before Jen can ask about Judy, but she thinks that whatever her story is, she’d rather hear it from the source. 

_

Judy convinces Perez to let them stay overnight in Portland on Saturday, provided they do their cabin’s deep-clean that morning, before they leave. 

Jen certainly doesn’t have the heart to back out, then, after all that work. 

(Is she more worried about disappointing Judy than Ted? Well, she can’t ignore the fallout from Judy’s pouting. It’s a practical matter.) 

“Okay, so, I picked out my favorite two-to-four hour road trip albums, and Michelle hooked us up with a picnic basket- she really wanted to come with but she promised her mom she’d visit her this weekend- I wanted to give you and Ted some time to catch up so I thought I’d hit up the record store and get the new Sarah McLachlan single and a few other things for the cabin- do you need anything?” 

“Breathe, Judy.” 

“Sorry, it’s just, I haven’t had, like, a gal pal in a while, you know? Thelma & Louise! Jo & Blair! Cher & Dionne!” 

“Me, neither.” 

“Oh, cool, “ Judy blushes, before commencing her DJ shift and opening a bag of twizzlers. 

Jen tries to focus on the niceness of the moment- perfect weather, bubblegum pop soundtrack, instead of letting her anxiety about tonight hijack her brain. 

Judy’s impeccable music selection helps- they segue from the Go Go’s _Beauty And The Beat_ into Stevie Nicks’ _Bella Donna,_ with Tracy Chapman serenading them as they leave the wilderness behind for the big (relatively speaking) city. 

Jen always thinks of music in relation to choreography- how would her body move to this song? What’s would she visually communicate to her audience? Could she make it work for ballet, or would modern suit it better? 

She can tell, for Judy, though, it’s a spiritual experience, listening and singing along to her collection. 

“Why aren’t you teaching the music kids?” 

Judy laughs, suddenly self-conscious at her interpretation of “Baby, Can I Hold You.” 

“I’m not _good_ at music, I just love it. I think, because I _don’t_ understand how it works. When I see a painting, I can find the brush strokes, deconstruct how the artist created it, but this shit? Total magic.” 

“I feel that way about books. Like, here’s this immersive experience that I would have no idea how to create.” 

(Judy has this way about her, of drawing out information Jen keeps close to her chest. Reading for her has always been a private refuge, and she’s not sure why she shared that tidbit of information, unbidden.) 

“Oh, yeah, what’s your favorite?” 

“Lately? _Franny & Zooey _. I know it’s a lot of self-indulgent navel-gazing, but what can I say, I deeply relate to having a mental breakdown and a boyfriend who’s more interested in keeping up appearances.” 

Judy nods, and her face shows that she’s doubting the role of her enthusiasm in making this trip happen. But, it’s too late to turn back now. 

“Have you found your ‘Jesus Prayer’ yet?” 

“Still looking, Jude. Still looking.” 

_ 

The venue is, expectedly shitty (Lorna’s money may put gas in the van, but it doesn’t put butts in seats), but Jen bites back her revulsion, and waves away Judy to run her errands, promising to be back at doors so they can watch the show together. 

The door guy pushes back when she explains that she’s the girlfriend of one of the openers, but when she recipes that “literally no one would care enough about these stupid fucking bands to lie their way back stage, are you fucking serious,” he gives up and lets her through. 

Jen sits in the back through soundcheck, giving herself time to observe Ted, to adjust to having the real thing in front of her, not just the blurred edges of memory. 

He’s handsome, and talented, and she’s very much wondering what Judy is up to right now and hoping she finds all the things that she wanted. 

_

Ted takes her to the greenroom, after the band is through. He’s all smiles, though his eyes look as fearful as her own must. 

“Jen, you look great! The outdoors agree with you.” 

“And scuzzy van life is surprisingly attractive on you. Oh! One of my friends thought you might like to have this,” she pulls out Judy’s photo from her bag. 

“Wow, yes, definitely, this will be a very classy antidote to all the Playboys Victor has thrown around the backseat.”

“And, thank you for reminding me why I’m glad I’m not on the road with you. I don’t even want to think about how it smells.”

“You’re right, you don’t,” he grins, before rummaging around to find something for her. 

She doesn’t ever find out what it was, though, because another photo slips out between his lyric sheets. 

“Ted, what the fuck is that? Because that looks a lot like you kissing another fucking girl.” 

He tries to put the polaroid back where it came from, but by now it’s too late, so he opts for prevarication.

“Listen, babe, you don’t know what it’s like when you’re in a band.” 

“Oh, Fuuuuuccckkkk you, I’m sorry every bobo groupie wants your cock, is that what you want me to say? I’m sorry that I fucking threw myself at you for months and all you could think about was me crying over my dead mother so you lost your poor little boner. Well, gosh, Ted, I’m sorry you don’t have a fucking girlfriend anymore!” 

He tries one more half-hearted apology, but Jen is already gone. 

She checks her watch- Judy’s supposed to be here in fifteen minutes, and she has a half-pack of cigs left. There is a small chance that she will make it out of here without destroying any property. 

Fortunately, for once in her life, Judy is early, clearly eager for a night out on the town. She slows her roll when she sees Jen pacing. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“We’re going home.”

“What?”

“We’re going home. I don’t care if you’re tired- give me the keys, I’ll fucking drive. But I cannot be in this fucking place one second longer so for the love of god can we just _get the fuck out of here already._ ”

She’s shouting by the end, expecting Judy to cower in fear, but she just nods, and points Jen in the direction of the parked car. 

She at least found the song she wanted- the single repeats on a loop for the first half hour as they drive out of the city, towards the darkness. 

_“Holding on and holding it in_ ,” over and over and over. 

“I’m sorry,” Jen whispers into the dark, once the highway is wide open before them. “I know you were really excited.” 

“It’s-” Judy stops herself from her rote response, because very little about what has transpired over the past hour is okay. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“He cheated on me. He had a photo of him fucking kissing some random slut.” 

“Hey, maybe it was a friendly kiss? Or like, a fan at the merch table taking liberties?”

“Judy, you don’t have to fucking explain away everything. He- things weren’t good before the summer, okay. Things weren’t good, and I wanted to pretend like they were, and seeing him in person forced me to face that.” 

She feels numb, admitting it. Like the hurt had begun so long ago that her heart’s not even really broken right now, just sore. 

  
  


“Well, then, good riddance to bad rubbish.” 

“Thanks, Jude. I love you, you know?” 

“I love you, too, Jen,” Judy smiles, and it all hurts a little less. “Can I interest you in some really solid angry breakup albums?” 

She listens to Judy more than the stereo, as they drive, broken up only by instructions to find this or that CD from her massive binder.

_Exile in Guyville_ is followed by _Living With Ghosts,_ followed by _Rumours_ , because “we’re reclaiming classic rock from the patriarchy, baby!” and Jen is honestly laughing by the time Judy demands she play _Spice_ and they’re shout-singing “Who Do You Think You Are” as they pull into the gravel drive of camp.

And at the end of the night?

It’s okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what else do you think is in Judy's Big Ass CD Binder?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, i hate writing plot but sometimes i gotta do it. next chapter will be lots of emotional revelations tho so stay tuned!!!!

Judy had gotten something for Jen, before their night on the town had devolved into a clusterfuck. But it felt weird to offer a present in the middle of a rage cry fest, so she lets the gift burn a hole in her bag for a few days. 

Jen keeps blowing off the usual group hangs to spend extra time in the dance studio, like if she keeps her body moving she won’t have to ever stop and think, which sounds exhausting to Judy, but she understands the impulse. 

Judy likes to sit with her emotions, to really know how she feels about things, like, on a cosmic level. Or to listen for guidance from the universe, but Jen, well she doesn’t like to be told what to do, even if it’s, like, a gentle nudge from Gaia herself. 

Judy cuts off the stereo, waiting for Jen to acknowledge her. 

“What’s up? Did we lose a camper or something?” 

She’s breathless, and annoyed (and um, it’s a  _ really _ good look on her, but that’s not super relevant right now).

“Nah, we’re good. Oh, I have something for you, though!” 

Jen starts to move towards her, but Judy holds up a hand, instead putting the CD in the stereo. 

Distorted guitars and dissonance fill the studio, and Jen scrunches up her face. 

“What _ is _ this?”

“Just, like, give it a chance. Feel it on a visceral level. Lean into the ugly and the angry, you know?”

Jen crosses her arms, but Judy sees her toes fighting the urge to move to the beat. 

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Jude.” 

Judy heads back to check on the sleeping tweens, leaving Jen to her self-exorcism. 

She’s half asleep when Jen tiptoes into the cabin, her hair damp from the shower. 

Judy can hear her humming the hook to “Dig Me Out” as she unzips her sleeping bag, a sweet little atonal lullaby. 

(And yeah, maybe back home giving a girl a Sleater-Kinney record is tantamount to a lesbian marriage proposal, but Jen doesn’t need to know that, okay?) 

_ 

Judy volunteers for dish duty at every possible opportunity, because it means a) more time with Michelle and b) less time under the watchful eye of Perez. 

Today though, Michelle seems off, like Judy has a giant zit on her face and she doesn’t know how to tell her, or everyone else here is actually an alien and she doesn’t know how to break the news without causing Judy to have an identity criss. 

“Everything okay?” 

Michelle hesitates, before sighing and turning to face Judy fully for the first time all day. 

“Look, Judy, I really like you.”

(The intonation at the end of her sentence doesn’t imply this is going to end well.)

“But?”

“I think, it might be best if we put a pin in this,” she gestures between them, “For a little while. Ana told me some things-” 

“Michelle, I know she doesn’t like me, but I swear-” 

“She says you leave chaos in your wake everywhere you go. That you’ve done it every summer you’ve worked here and there’s no reason to believe this year would be any different.” 

“Well, it is different, because  _ you’re _ different.” 

Judy feels the earnestness seep into her voice, but she can’t help it- she falls quick and she falls easy. 

(So what if she falls in multiple directions at once?)

Michelle smiles, and somehow it’s the saddest thing Judy has ever seen. 

“Yeah, but are  _ you _ ?” 

Judy doesn’t know how to answer that, because on the one hand, she feels like she’s constantly growing and changing and trying to be better, but on the other hand, it feels like everyone in her life that _ should  _ matter only tells her she’s a disappointment. Her mom, Steve, and now, Michelle. 

“I’m… trying. I really, really, am. But I understand if you have reservations.” 

“I’m sorry, I just need a little space.” 

“It’s okay,” Judy whispers into the dishwater, as her tears mix with the soap suds. 

Michelle leaves as quickly as possible, and it’s small consolation that she’s choking back sobs, too. 

_

Judy thinks she does a pretty good job of faking chipperness at the shaving cream battle that night (her  _ Braveheart _ impression is nothing short of inspiring) but Jen clearly picks up on the pining glances she throws at Michelle (and Perez, by proxy) throughout the evening. 

“Girl problems?” 

“It’s fine. I create entropy in the romantic universe, apparently.” 

“You want me to go talk some sense into her? Because if she thinks she’s too good for you, she’s got another think coming.” 

Judy shakes her head, but squeezes Jen’s hand, thanking her for the support. 

“No, no this one’s on me. I think I was too optimistic about the chance for a new start.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m still happy to kick anyone’s ass if I need to. I’m Jo, remember?” 

“Right now? I could really just use a hug.” 

Jen balks for a moment, before relenting. 

“Yeah? All right, then.” 

So Jen pulls her close, and she smells like Barbasol and Off! and the faintest hint of something uniquely Jen. 

Judy takes a deep breath, and when Jen lets go, she feels like she might not fall entirely apart.

“You’re like emotional duct tape, you know that?”

“Have I told you before you’re a fucking weirdo?”

“Yeah,” Judy smiles, like she means it. 

_

Steve has this, like, killer shark instinct for Judy’s heartache. 

When she’s feeling stable, and strong, she doesn’t fall for his lines, but he’s always waiting under the surface, counting on the moment she’ll lose her footing. 

The fourth week of camp each year, there’s a semi-formal dance on Thursday night. Judy’s watching Shandy’s surprisingly adept moonwalk when Steve sidles up to her. 

“What’s a girl like you doing looking so sad, hmmm?” 

“Go away, Steve.” 

“You know, there used to be a time you didn’t look at me like I was the gum under your shoe.” 

“Yeah, before I actually  _ knew _ you.” 

“No,” he laughs, “I think it was before you met that fucking shrew of a roommate of yours. I know she doesn’t like me, and she’s poisoned you against me. But she’s wrong, Judy.”

See, Judy can brush off Steve’s snide remarks about her (hell, she’s recovered from truly, truly cruel things he’s said), but about Jen? 

“ Go to hell, Steve.” 

“Come on, now Jude, don’t be like that. Let’s just have one dance, like old times.” 

Judy looks away from him, towards the dance floor, where Jen and Nick are clearly living their best life to “Just Like Heaven” (she had mentioned a goth phase in high school, come to think of it). 

“I’d rather go dance with the shrew, thanks.” 

“So what,” he scoffs, “You’re a fucking dyke now?” 

(Well, that answers the question of whether he knew  _ why _ she was feeling sad and vulnerable, at least.)

“No, Steve, I’m a fucking  _ person _ .” 

He fumes, but quickly turns his attention towards one of the adoring young campers who’s more than eager to soothe his bruised ego. 

Judy wonders if he knows he’s just made an enemy of her. Maybe Jen’s rubbed off on her, this newfound unwillingness to forgive and be the kinder person.

_

Jen and Judy dance non-stop for the rest of the night, occasionally joined by Karen (who does a mean “Macarena,” Judy can’t deny) or Christopher. It feels good, to have the blood pounding in her ears, sweat glistening on her skin. Maybe this is what Jen was chasing, all those evenings in the dance studio. 

Jen makes eyes towards the door, where Michelle looks around, nervously. 

“You look hot as fuck, if you want to get her back or stomp on her heart.” 

Judy thinks about the pulse of the music versus the uncertain quiet of the night. 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

Jen nods approvingly.

“Okay, make her earn it-  _ good girl _ ,” Jen whispers in her ear, oblivious to the shiver her words elicit. 

(Somehow, some way, Judy remembers how to work her legs again.)

_

It’s happenstance that Judy has her camera on her, when she comes across Steve making out with Kayley who is a)16, at  _ best  _ and b)still very much a camper and extremely off-limits, ages of consent or no. 

(Frankly she’d planned on playing a much longer game of exacting revenge, but if there’s one thing Judy excels at, it’s taking advantage of the opportunities in front of her.) 

The lighting is good enough for her to get a clear shot, before sneaking off to the dark room for emergency developing. 

She finds Perez, who’s less than happy to see her, first thing in the morning.

“Judy, I don’t want to talk about our personal lives.” 

“Um, no ma’am, I promise this is strictly a professional concern.” 

She grabs the photo from her bag, secured in an envelope for safekeeping. 

“I have something you’re going to want to see.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ftr, i'm #teamJanet in the great Sleater-Kinney breakup of 2019)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: pretty aggressive language- Steve is a dick and uses the c-word prepare however you need to for that.

Jen’s found her Jesus Prayer. 

She’s found her Jesus Prayer, and it fucking sucks, because instead of feeling enlightened or at peace, losing herself in religious meditation, she just hears the phrase “ _ Oh, you’ve got the darkest eyes”  _ in her head over and over, paired with the image of Judy Hale’s fucking face. 

This? Is not the spiritual revelation she was searching for. 

This newfound intellectual torture has made her pretty fucking cranky- even more so than usual. 

The last of the campers are gone for the week, and Steve has been suspiciously absent all day- Karen took charge of the showcase, and talking with parents, which, good for her, but judging by Judy’s incessant nervous chatter something is up. 

That doesn’t mean that Jen has any patience left to deal with her, though. 

They’re back in the cabin, getting ready for fucking movie night or whatever insipid staff bonding bullshit is on the calendar, and Jen loses it. 

“Judy? Can you just shut the fuck up for one fucking second? Like, can you go for a minute without sharing every fucking thought that comes into your head?” 

Judy stops her monologue, looking at Jen with a mix of anger and heartbreak. 

_ Oh, you’ve got the darkest eyes…  _

“I’ll just go, then. Give you some of that quiet you’re so desperate for.” 

Jen feels like every wall in this fucking cabin is closing in on her, suffocating her. 

She scrambles through her bag, grabbing the secret weapon she’d been hoping she wouldn’t have to use and turning up the stereo as loud as it will go, until the ground shakes beneath her. 

The far-from-dulcet tones of Pantera help her block out every thought in her head, but they also mean that she’s surprised when a  _ very _ angry Steve rolls up on her. 

“Where the fuck is Judy?” He shouts over the music, beckoning her outside.

“She left, man, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well, she fucking screwed me over, so maybe don’t lie to me or I’ll fuck you up, too.” 

(That explains Judy’s nerves. Jen hates herself for how she acted.) 

“She wouldn’t have been able to screw you over if you hadn’t been out of line.” 

Steve laughs, ugly and mean. 

“So, you’re defending her? You know she’s only going to move on to the next shiny new object once she gets sick of you. Judy only cares about herself, and she took mercy on you because she feels fucking sorry for you, but that’s all you are, a fucking pity project.” 

He turns to walk away, but before Jen’s mind can follow her body, her fist is connecting with his face, blood pouring out of his nose. 

“You fucking  _ bitch.”  _ He wipes away the blood with his sleeve, the excess pouring out into the dirt. “If this fucks me over for my auditions I will ruin your _ fucking _ life, you miserable cunt.” 

Jen shakes herself out of her fight-or-flight response enough to see that the altercation has drawn a crowd, and Perez is rapidly approaching, anger all over her face. 

“Alright, Wood, you should have been gone from the premises half an hour ago. Would you like me to call the police? Because the captain owes me a favor and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding a few extra charges. That’s what I thought.  _ Go _ .” 

She turns to Jen, who’s now literally shaking in her boots. 

“Take a ride with me, Harding.” 

Jen trudges silently behind her to the waiting golf cart, and Perez drives them towards the outskirts of camp, giving her a moment to compose herself. 

“Normally we have a zero tolerance policy for any violence here. But, knowing Mr. Wood, and, knowing also that he would have been leaving Beach Haven regardless, I’m tempted to be gracious here.” 

“Why?” 

Perez keeps looking straight ahead, as she parks the golf cart in a secluded area. 

“I also lost my mom at a young age. In a truly awful, violent way. And I carried so, so, so much anger with me from that loss. It was the only thing keeping me afloat in a very turbulent sea. But I had to let it go in order to learn to swim, you understand?” 

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Jen murmurs, unsure of how else to respond. 

“I like to think that the work I do here at this camp is meaningful- it’s not just a playground for spoiled children, it’s a place for people to get a fresh start, or to discover a new part of themselves. I think- there’s a lot of potential in you, Jen, but you have to find a way to let go of that anger.” 

“I know.” 

And she does- she knows that her inability to fucking take a deep breath or ground herself or whatever the fuck it is that zen masters and yogis do is what’s broken most of the important things in her life. She’s not even sure if Judy will forgive her, after that shit she pulled today. 

“Can you promise me that for the last half of camp you’ll keep that rage in check?” 

Jen nods. 

“Yeah, I’ll get it together. Thank you, for giving me another chance.” 

Perez nods, still looking out at the sunset. 

“Your actions will, of course, have other consequences. How does dish duty for the next two weeks sound?” 

“Adequately punishing.” 

“Good. Let’s head back before the other staff start a rumor that I’ve hidden your body.” 

“She’s got jokes!” 

“Like you’d never believe,” Perez deadpans. 

_ 

Jen catches the back half of the film ( _ Footloose _ , because Karen and Christopher), sitting in the back to avoid too much scrutiny. 

(Pastor Wayne brings her some popcorn and gives her shoulder a kind squeeze and she forces herself to smile and say “thanks” instead of giving her instinctual asshole response.) 

It’s clearly going to be a quiet night, after Steve’s dramatic firing and Jen’s… outburst. Everyone scatters for a night in, but Jen isn’t ready to face her cabin again. 

Neither, apparently, is Judy. 

“Wanna get stoned and watch the sun come up on the beach?”

Jen smiles, genuinely, for the first time all day. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

_ 

They pass the joint back and forth in silence for a while, letting the high settle in before attempting to talk through their shit. 

(Jen tries not to think too much about how her lips are touching the same place Judy’s did, or how their fingers brush ever so slightly as they trade off.) 

“I got Steve fired.”

“I figured as much,” Jen exhales. 

“Do you want to know why?” 

Jen shrugs. 

“I expect you have your reasons. And it’s not like he didn’t deserve it.” 

“Do you want to talk about why you punched him?” 

“Nope.” 

Judy looks down at her hand, the faint bruise barely perceptible in the moonlight. 

“You need some ice for that?”

“Nope.” 

(The pain is her penance.) 

They sit in the silence, and Jen tries to center a little bit, listening to the sounds of the water, feeling the breeze on her skin. 

Her toes still tap to that phantom beat-  _ oh, you’ve got the darkest eyes _ \- but for a moment, it doesn’t hurt quite as much as it did. 

“My mom is in prison.”

(Jen has to take a moment to process Judy’s words, spoken so quietly they’re felt more than heard.) 

“I put her there- I mean, I testified in her trial, because I was taught that telling the truth is the right thing to do, only telling the truth got her locked up and put me into the foster system.”

“Oh, Jude, I’m so sorry. What a burden for you to carry.”

“Every time I’ve tried to visit her, she tells me what a fuck up I am. And, the thing is, all the evidence points to her being right.” 

Jen turns towards Judy, taking her tiny hands in her own. 

“No, no, Judy, you are a ray of fucking sunshine in a dark fucking world- and you know what? Fuck your mom. I’m your mom now, okay?” 

Judy smiles, but Jen can see the reflection of tears on her cheeks. 

“I’ve never actually told anyone that, you know? Not even Steve. I just felt  _ so  _ ashamed.” 

(And here Jen thought her heart couldn’t break any more. Jesus  _ fuck _ .) 

“Oh, hon, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are so brave, and so good.” 

“Thanks, mom.” 

Jen laughs, and she knows that they’re going to be okay. 

“But I’m like, a hot mom, right?” 

“Oh yeah, I’ve got a total oedipal complex.” 

“Speaking of motherhood… I keep wondering if I actually dodged a bullet, breaking up with Ted.” 

“What do you mean?” 

(Of course Judy wants everyone to be together and happy. Jen has never met anyone so sweet, or so fucking tragic.) 

“Like, he used to talk about marriage. And  _ kids _ . And I’d laugh about how young we were, but I think he meant it. I mean, can you imagine me dealing with a fucking  _ baby _ ? And his mom was a  _ nightmare _ . I mean, I guess now she can’t lord the fact she got me this job over me for the rest of my life- that in itself is a fucking blessing.” 

“Aw, I think you’d be a great mom, Jen. Maybe not like, June Cleaver, but if you wanted to have kids, you’d be great at it.” 

Jen huffs in half-hearted agreement. 

“Still. I don’t want my life to be a series of boxes checked off. Sometimes, Ted treated me like I was just this… fucking prize he got for being an alpha male, or whatever. Like he didn’t care about me so much as what I represented to the outside world.” 

“Stupid boy. You’re not the prize, you’re the whole fucking game, baby.” 

And when Judy says shit like that? It would be impossible for Jen  _ not _ to kiss her. 

So she does- hard and fast and a little bit rough, enough that Judy’s hands bunch up her shirt and she moans into her mouth and Jen hates the taste of weed but it’s really not so bad when it’s mixed with Judy…

And then?

Jen runs. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the way i ended things last chapter, bbs! 
> 
> hopefully judy's shameless flirting helps soothe the burn <3 
> 
> (as always, i don't own shit but my gay feelings. but if for some reason you don't hear all the musical references in your head, i made a playlist with everything i've mentioned (or thought about) in the fic! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5iKCcXK1MtSgTSzFwHuK8h )

Judy stays stock still for a moment after Jen kisses her, because one, she’s  _ very _ high and two, Jen’s not run-after-immediately type. 

So, she counts the waves against the shore, and presses her fingers to her lips, confirming that it all did, in fact happen. 

Then, she walks, slowly, back to the cabin, taking deep breaths and feeling the ground beneath her feet. 

On the one hand, she’s wary of pushing Jen into something she’s not ready for- Jen is like, clearly strong as hell, but a heart of stone can still shatter.. 

On the other, Judy just has this  _ feeling _ \- she’s had it from the moment she met Jen, saw that glint of hardness and sorrow in her eyes. Something is this universe brought them together, and Judy isn’t one to deny the will of the goddess, you know? 

Michelle is lovely- and charming, but when Judy thinks about it with clear eyes (and a resting heart rate), they don’t ultimately  _ fit _ , beyond effortless flirtation (and frankly off-the-charts physical chemistry). 

She wants to impress Michelle, to woo her, but she doesn’t want to show her the things that have made Judy who she is, an eternal optimist who struggles with bouts of despair and an inability to stop apologizing. She wants Michelle to like her, not to  _ know _ her.

But Jen, Jen is… it’s objectively ridiculous to say it, but Judy thinks she might be her soulmate. Like, when has anyone ever _ understood _ her on such a foundational level? Not just understood-  _ accepted _ . And if they end up being platonic soulmates who write long weekly letters from different coasts and have Thanksgiving with each other instead of their relatives- well, all Judy’s ever wanted is a family of her own. 

She’d give up anything for that. 

The wisdom of TLC pops into her head- “ _ I know that you’re gonna have it your way or nothing at all, but I think you’re moving too fast. _ ” 

Maybe Judy’s good as married in her mind, but if Jen needs slow, slow she will get. 

_ 

Jen’s in bed, when Judy creeps into the cabin, although the lump under her sleeping bag is the only sign of life. 

“Are you fucking humming ‘Waterfalls?’” 

Judy stops the singing she hadn’t realized she’d started (still pretty high). 

“I guess I am. You okay?”

She puts a hand on Jen’s shoulder (or at least she thinks it’s Jen’s shoulder- it’s kind of hard to tell), in a gesture of ambiguously romantic support. 

“I mauled your face and then fled the scene. What do you think?”

(Judy wonders if Jen goes to therapy, and if so, if she’s been called out on her use of sarcasm as a coping mechanism. Judy kind of likes it, actually, the dark humor, but she also, like, wants Jen to feel like she doesn’t have to use it if she doesn’t  _ want _ to, but also, where the fuck do therapists get off telling people whether jokes are okay? )

Oh wait, she still hasn’t answered the question-

“I think that you’ve had a long fuckin’ day.” 

Jen rolls over, opening her eyes and squinting at Judy warily. 

“Why the fuck do you even like me, Jude? I’m like, a walking anger management ad, I’m so fucking up my own ass with my sadness that I didn’t even know the first thing about your family until this week, and I’m apparently the least chill stoner ever.” 

Despite Jen’s exasperation, Judy can’t help but smile- this is the quintessential curmudgeon Jen that she felt so fucking drawn to in the first place, never mind the hidden depths. 

“I like how you call people on their shit, when I’m too scared to do it, or worried what people will think. I like that you let yourself get angry, because we get told that women aren’t supposed to take up that space, and you say ‘fuck it,’ and demand it for yourself. And I have no complaints about your actions under reefer madness, save for that (very minor in the grand scheme of thing)s freakout back there.” 

“I didn’t plan to kiss you.” 

“Yeah, I kind of figured that out.”

“It just happened… and then I like, couldn’t deal with what that means.”

Judy squeezes her hand, reminding Jen not to spiral again.

“Then don’t deal with it, right now at least. It doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to. We can be friends who shared one really solid kiss that one time, you know?” 

(Judy wishes she had some of Jen’s assertiveness right now, honestly, but she can’t help but be more worried about Jen’s comfort than her own feelings.) 

“Do you want it to mean something?” 

Jen is uncharacteristically quiet- Judy wonders if she’s thinking about Ted, about the way that his and her interpretations of _ meaningful _ were apparently very different (or  _ worse _ , the same). 

And Judy knows that even if she thinks of all her exes as valuable connections in her life, it doesn’t always look that way to outside eyes- hopping from bed to bed and gender to gender. Jen likes to chart a steady course. 

She thinks about the true answer (yes, Judy  _ wants _ it to mean  _ everything _ ) and about the answer she thinks Jen wants to hear (we can pretend tomorrow that it never happened, or we can get very drunk right now and ensure we don’t even remember this conversation) and opts instead for the objective fact.

“It doesn’t really matter what I  _ want _ \- it already means something, to me at least.” 

Jen tilts her head, a curious expression on her face. 

“Do you like, dream up these lines to get in my pants?” 

“What? No! I mean, not that I’m adverse to that eventuality, but I like to think I speak from the heart, Jennifer!” 

(She places her hands on her sternum, for added emotional impact.) 

“Oh, so you think you can call me Jennifer,  _ Judith _ ?”

Judy bats her eyelashes.

“And what would you rather I call you?” 

Jen balks for a moment, at Judy’s sudden shift to coquettishness, before throwing her pillow at her. 

“See, now that’s a line to get in your pants.” 

“Difference noted.” 

Jen moves her body flush against the wall, making room on the mattress for Judy to join her. 

“Are we good?” 

“You said I could do a rain check on deciding if I’m a full-blown lesbian?”

“Mmmhmmm. It’s a 30-day money back guarantee.”

“Fuck you. Why are you so patient with me?”

“Because I lo- It’s that California yoga lifestyle, baby. I’ll have to teach you some meditative chants, get you in the zone.”

“Not if you don’t want me to smother you with this pillow.”

“I’d rather you smother me with your thighs-” Jen thwacks her with the aforementioned sleeping implement- “Okay, I’ll stop.” 

“Would you- I’m not ready for anything more, but would you hold me?” 

Jen’s got a few inches’ height on Judy, but she makes a perfect little spoon nonetheless. Judy breathes in the scent of her shampoo and sings herself to sleep. 

_

On Sundays, Pastor Wayne, Karen, and Christopher gather for an informal sunrise service on the water. 

Despite their (in her mind) successful talk, Jen is walking around eggshells around Judy all weekend, so Judy decides to take advantage of her premature wakefulness and yearning for spiritual guidance and join them. 

For more than the first time in her life, she’s grateful for her Cat Stevens records, when Pastor Steve leads a dulcet arrangement of “Morning Has Broken”- she knows enough to fake the performance of belonging, here. 

Judy’s always loved that one line: “ _ Mine is the sunlight/Mine is the morning.”  _ The idea that something so universal can still have this private significance. Judy’s never been able to cultivate a personal relationship with god- in what world is she important enough for that?- but she can claim the warmth of the sun as it hits her skin. She can grant herself little mercies. 

Wayne gives a brief sermon about, well, Judy couldn’t tell you what chapter, but he talks about the importance of helping “the least of these,” of recognizing that real pain can often manifest in unsightly ways. 

(Jen’s final encounter with Steve must have made a creative impact.) 

Mostly, however, they sit in quiet prayer, sharing the space without needing words. 

Judy has often found refuge in the silence of houses of worship, even if she doesn’t ascribe to a particular creed. The idea that all of humanity could transcend itself to serve one another- well, it’s certainly a nice one, even if things don’t turn out that way most of the time. 

Judy thinks believing the best of people might be her religion. 

She wonders if that’s more or less foolish than the whole crucifixion/resurrection business. 

_

The midpoint of camp means exchanging middle schoolers for high school campers. In some ways it’s easier- much less homesickness or surprise menstrual cycles- but it also means, like, a lot of raging hormones in a confined space. 

Which is maybe why things feel so tense with Jen. 

She’s moved from studiously avoiding Judy early in the week to unabashedly flirting at every opportunity. 

Or, at least Judy thinks it’s flirting- she’s pretty sure Jen didn’t suddenly decide to develop a raging lollipop habit out of some previously undetected sweet tooth. 

_ Well, two can play at that game _ . 

Judy opts for a slightly more subtle approach- brushing her hands against Jen’s whenever their paths cross, nudging into her personal space and watching Jen’s pupils dilate, before walking away and leaving her hanging. 

The campers are either fairly oblivious, or too invested in their own personal drama (Judy’s pretty sure at least 50% of the girls in their cabin are in some kind of love hexagon, but who is she to interfere with adolescent romance?) to care about what may be devolving into a dereliction of supervisory duties. 

And, well, Jen hasn’t screamed at anyone yet this week, so Perez isn’t complaining. 

And, on the non-hormonal side, Jen’s starting to open up to like, the world, a bit, which makes Judy feel hopeful about her chances, in the long-run. 

Like, this week their kids are all musical theater obsessives, so Jen pulls out a CD of Bernadette Peters at Carnegie Hall (and Judy is like, maybe a little annoyed she hasn’t shared this yet, but too happy to learn something personal about Jen to complain), and they all sing into their hairbrushes. 

“My mom and I- we fought a lot. But we both loved Sondheim. One of the last outings we did together was the 10th anniversary concert of  _ Sunday in the Park with George _ .”

“That sounds like a really special memory.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Jen exhales around her cigarette (and Judy wonders if she could convince her to quit, because she wants her to live for a very long time, but not, like, in a creepy obsessive way).

“I’ve never really gotten into musicals,” Judy admits. 

Jen scoffs. 

“Yeah, because you live in fucking California. Go see a show on Broadway, then you’d get the hype.”

“I mean, I’ve seen some of the movie versions!  _ Sound of Music, My Fair Lady.”  _

Jen stares at her like she’s just admitted to killing someone’s puppy. 

“So not the same! That’s like- Audrey Hepburn didn’t even sing! Every single fucking background chorus dancer on broadway is more talented than any film actor.” 

“I mean, hasn’t Julie Andrews been nominated for a Tony before?” 

“And she’ll tell you it’s a million times harder than being in a fucking  _ movie. _ You know what? You better come and fucking visit me in New York after this and I’m taking you to see a real fucking show, I swear to god…” 

“Oh, so you want me to come  _ visit _ you,” Judy grins.

“Yeah, maybe. So you can get a fucking education,” Jen huffs, though there’s the suggestion of a smile in her cheeks. 

“Do you have a guest room? Or will we have to… share a bed.”

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.”

“I really, really don’t.” 

Judy’s about to close the space between them, kiss that sweet lil smirk off of Jen’s face, when Karen comes rolling up.

“Jen! I heard you talking about musicals, and well, with Steve gone I thought maybe we could join forces and stage a show with both the dance and acting departments. Ooooh- Judy- your campers could paint sets!” 

“Sure, Karen,” Judy sighs, trying to hide her disappointment. 

Karen lays out her idea to them (apparently she’s an obsessive  _ Grease _ fan), but Judy mainly just nods, and listens to the faint strains still coming from inside the cabin:

_ Somebody crowd me with love. _

_ Somebody force me to care. _

_ Somebody let me come through, _

_ I'll always be there, _

_ As frightened as you _

Jen meets her gaze, her expression a mix of blame ( _ you did this to me _ ) and adoration. 

Judy can work with that. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking i'll do like... 2 more chapters of this? 
> 
> unless anyone wants an epistolary sequel...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: discussions of depression/mental health 
> 
> also, um, dirty talk and mutual masturbation (rating upped to E lolol)

Choreographing “Summer Nights” isn’t really the artistic pinnacle Jen was hoping to achieve this summer, but the campers seem to be enjoying it enough, joking about their poodle skirts and saddle shoes and leather jackets (it’s a good thing Maine isn’t too unbearably hot-talk about unbreathable materials). 

Karen’s honestly a great director- her boundless enthusiasm really comes through when everyone else’s energy is lagging, and without Steve undercutting her at every opportunity, her decision making skills are solid as a rock. 

So, Jen and Christopher lead sectional rehearsals on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and do more difficult dance work on the other days. The high school campers are all here for the rest of the summer, though they’re local enough to go home every weekend (thank god). 

The first week feels achingly slow, although that’s probably because Judy is always around, working with her campers to paint set backdrops and design commemorative show t-shirts. 

Jen’s never had so much fucking unresolved sexual tension- she’s very much the type of person to meet a guy and either hop straight into bed or chuck him to the curb. But ever since Karen unintentionally cock-blocked (poontang-boomeranged? She’ll have to ask Jude what the correct term is when it’s two women), it’s like every time Jen’s near Judy she’s got goosebumps and an elevated heart rate and feels a little bit shaky. 

_ Lovesick _ , you could say, but she wouldn’t, because that’s fucking gross. 

Jen has finally accepted the fact that she’s physically attracted to Judy. Now that that door is opened? It’s like she’s making up for all the time she  _ didn’t _ spend checking her out. 

Apparently, Jen  _ really _ has a thing for hands. And Judy’s always like, twisting her fucking rings or idly tying knots to make a friendship bracelet, or, on one blessed occasion, using a power drill, and maybe Jen has thought about those hands a few times in the dark, you know, to make sure that she’s like,  _ really _ into Judy. 

She… definitely is.

And flirting back with Judy? Making her squirm? It’s fucking  _ exquisite.  _ Except for the fact that Jen doesn’t know what she would actually  _ do _ if push came to shove. 

Sex with boys is very straightforward, even if sometimes disappointing. Jen’s afraid she will be just as fumbly and awkward as her inexperienced highschool hookups, that Judy will smile sweetly and reassure her it was “fine, really” before running straight back into the arms of the _ clearly _ more experienced Michelle. 

It’s not very often that Jen wants something more than she fears it and that in and of itself is  _ terrifying.  _

_

The campers are on their break, somehow still energetic enough to be running around in the heat of the day (that five years between 16 and 21 really does a number on the body, Jen thinks. Or at least on the fucking brain). 

Karen still looks bright and chipper, but Jen can tell she’s lagging a bit, too. A month ago she would have ignored her and gone to smoke, but Judy’s rubbed off on her ( _ not the time to think about double entendres, Jennifer _ ) so Jen opts to talk instead. 

“It’s really amazing how you can stay so positive all the time, what’s that about?” 

(It comes out more as a compliment than an insult, which she’s low-key proud of.) 

Karen shrugs.

“It’s kind of a fake-it-til you make it thing? Um, I’ve actually struggled a lot with pretty intense depression and being intentionally cheerful is one of the only things that really helps me.” 

Jen cannot, at all, relate, but she guesses it kind of makes sense. 

“Oh, wow. That’s heavy- I’m sorry.” 

“No, I mean, it’s not your fault, is it? We’re all fighting our own battles, you know? But that’s one of the reasons I love Grease so much- it was like, this aspirational high school experience that was like, the antithesis of my own.” 

“High school fucking sucked.” 

Karen laughs. 

“Yeah, I think it does for most people but we don’t talk about it enough! But I used to listen to the soundtrack every night as I fell asleep, and it felt like this little reminder that things were gonna be okay.” 

“Do you think the reason the high school in Grease seemed so exciting was because all the actors were like, thirty?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Karen agrees. “Boys at my school definitely didn’t look like John Travolta.” 

Jen laughs. 

“One of my teachers was a dead ringer for Stockard Channing.” 

(In retrospect, Jen realizes, she probably had a crush on Ms. Lewis, with the raspy voice and no-nonsense attitude. But Karen doesn’t need to know that.) 

“Do you think Mary’s going to be able to hit those high notes on ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do?’” 

Jen grimaces. 

“She might  _ hit _ them, but it won’t be pretty. Nick’s really gonna earn that vocal coach title.” 

_

At the end of the first week of rehearsals, things are, well, shaky but coming along. And now that Jen understands where Karen’s coming from, she drives her a lot less crazy.

“Everybody has a story,” Judy comments when Jen tels her about their conversation. 

“What, you’re going to tell me to be nice to everybody, like you are, now?” 

“Of course not- us bleeding hearts need people to fight on our behalf every now and then, don’t we?” 

“Oh, I will fuck shit  _ up _ for you, Jude, I can deliver on that.” 

“My hero,” she giggles, faking a swoon. “So, I was thinking we should at least put in an appearance at tonight’s party, unless you really want to lean into that antisocial asshole identity, which, works for me, but might bum Karen out.” 

Jen sighs, grabbing her favorite pair of tight black jeans. 

“For Karen, I suppose I can get it together.” 

(They haven’t actually talked aloud about their plans for the weekend, and it’s not like there’s been a moment without campers around until this point. Jen is both excited and terrified for what happens  _ after _ the party.) 

“Is the Sandy-at-the-end-of-the-movie getup intentional? Because you  _ totally  _ rock it,” Judy drools. 

“Hmmm, maybe subconsciously. Although I’m not sure I agree with the message of slutting it up to win your shitty boyfriend back.” 

“She’s empowering herself to embrace her sexuality!” 

“Well in  _ that _ case, “ Jen rolls her eyes, “consider me empowered.” 

Judy laughs, holding out the crook of her arm for an escort. 

_

Judy isn’t a skilled dancer, but she’s a  _ good _ one- she moves to music like she’s feeling it in every single cell of her person; there’s no translation in her brain between the processing of the sound and the movement of her body. 

Jen always has to remind herself not to think, to practice until the muscle memory she’s worked so hard for takes over. She’s always too fucking in her head to truly enjoy the moment. 

Edie Brickell sings over the shitty boombox, her voice echoing off the walls of the dining hall. It’s too rainy for the beach tonight, but Judy looks as blissed out as if she were under the stars, hearing the band live. 

_ I'm not aware of too many things _

_ I know what I know, if you know what I mean _

It would be nice, to not be so fucking aware of every _ single  _ thing, wouldn’t it? 

When Jen looks at Judy, the other stuff  _ does  _ fall away, for a moment- she doesn’t feel Ben’s eyes on her (he’s not very subtle with his crush), she doesn’t hear the chatter of Karen and Christopher, she doesn’t smell the perpetual odor of Pine Sol and processed cheese that permeates the room. 

All there is is Judy, swaying her hips, closing her eyes, waving her arms in the air. 

_ Don't let me get too deep _

_ Don't let me get too deep _

_ Don't let me get too deep _

_ Don't let me get too deep _

Judy’s eyes open, and meet Jen’s. 

Jen dances as close to her as she can, until they’re moving as one, and she can whisper in her ear. 

“I’d say we’ve made our fucking appearance, yeah?” 

“You want to get out of here?”

“Unless you want me to go back to the cabin alone and get myself off.” 

“Sounds hot, actually. Can I watch?” 

“Is that your thing, watching?” 

“If I’m watching  _ you  _ it sure as hell is.” 

“Right, well, I’m going to pretend I have a headache, you can do your fuckin’ Lisa Loeb striptease or whatever.” 

“I prefer Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’  _ actually _ .” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Soon! Be patient,” Judy winks. 

Jen practically runs out of there. 

_

In the quiet, alone, Jen gets nervous again, aware of all her imperfections, all her insecurities. 

But then Judy walks in, glowing. 

She’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat from dancing; Jen is overcome with the urge to lick it off of her chest. 

“Hey, you.” 

“Hey, you,” Jen smiles back, feeling her face relax for the first time in hours. 

“Heard you had a headache. I know  _ just  _ the cure.” 

“Is that so?” 

Judy nods, grabbing her hands. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” 

“You have to ask?”

“Yeah, I do, I’m a fucking gentlelady, okay?” 

Judy’s slow with her kiss, a stark contrast to Jen’s previous impulsivity. She cups Jen’s cheek with her palm, tangles the fingers of her other hand in her hair. 

When they part, Judy’s eyes are dark and her cheeks are flushed. Jen knows she’s a fucking mess, but Judy’s looking at her like she’s the most wonderful thing she’s ever seen. 

“Does your head still hurt?” 

“Yeah, a little,” Jen whispers (she can’t bring herself to talk any louder. She’s pretty sure all the blood in her body has gone to her cunt). 

Judy pouts, faux-remorseful. 

“I’m so sorry, can I distract you?” 

“I’m _ sure _ you can.” 

Judy begins to lift her dress over her head (stopping to confirm that Jen is, in fact, okay with the strip tease) and Jen kind of forgets to breathe for a minute. 

Judy doesn’t shave her arm pits, which intellectually, to Jen is kind of gross, but in this moment just looks really fucking hot (it’s another reminder of how comfortable Judy is with herself, how foreign Jen feels in her own body sometimes). She’s wearing mismatched cotton underwear, like the fucking crunchy camp counselor that she is, like she wasn’t planning for this or expecting it, and it’s somehow even more enthralling than all of the visions of half-naked Judy she’d conjured up in her head. 

“Do you want me to-” Jen gestures towards her own shirt. 

“I  _ very _ much want- if you feel comfortable.” 

Jen’s never known a guy to be this fucking concerned with her mental state. She doesn’t know if Judy’s being especially wary with her, or if she’s like this with everyone. 

“Um, yeah, yeah, only fair, right?” 

The way Judy’s jaw drops more than makes up for her own self-consciousness. It was a good day to not wear a bra, apparently.

“It’s like, I knew you were hot, Jen, but um, I can’t believe I’m going to have to ever think about anything but you, topless, again. Unfair, really.” 

“Shut up,” Jen blushes. 

“Only if you make me,” Judy teases, reaching behind to unhook her own bra (and fortunately, at least one of Jen’s worst-case scenarios- not being able to figure that out from the other side of the equation- disappears), in a gesture of solidarity. 

Jen has seen other women’s breasts before- it’s not like changing in front of other dancers is a rare occurrence, and she’s not so much of a prude that she’s never come across pornography in the wild- but Judy… Judy is something else. 

“Holy fuck, Judes. I’m… like _ very  _ fucking gay.”

“Right? It’s like, once you see that first pair of tits in the wild… you can’t go back.” 

“Don’t you date boys?” 

“Yeah, but,” Judy gestures at Jen’s body, ”no boy could ever compare to you. Not even, like, Leo.” 

“Sweet talker.” 

“You don’t know the half of it.” 

Judy guides Jen to sit down on the mattress, straddling her lap, before leaning in for another kiss. 

She moves slowly, carefully, letting Jen set the pace. 

Jen runs her hands over Judy’s shoulders, trails her fingernails down Judy’s surprisingly toned stomach. Judy’s smaller than her, but strong. 

“You won’t break me, I promise.” 

Judy nudges her hand higher, and wow, touching someone else’s breasts is um, nothing short of magical. 

Judy gives these little breathy moans, like she wants to be a lot louder, but she also doesn’t want to scare Jen off. She also begins to rock her hips against Jen’s, which is, um,  _ a lot _ in both good and very intense ways. 

“Judy? I think I’m a little out of my depth.”

Judy jumps off her lap, embarrassed and apologetic. 

“Fuck, Jen, I’m sorry-you’re just- sorry, I got a bit carried away.”

“No, it’s not bad, I’m like,  _ so _ into everything that’s happening right now, I just… don’t know what to do.” 

“Well, if you want, I could  _ show _ you what I like…” 

“Oh, you were like, not at all joking about liking to watch, huh?” 

“Sure I was- I like to  _ be _ watched.”

Jen’s eyes probably bug out of her head because Judy quickly backtracks.

“Oh, god, Jen, I’m not like, trying to fuck in public right now, um, but maybe if it feels like too much to touch me, you could watch me touch myself, or vice versa?”

“I’ve never-” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten  _ yourself _ off- I know for a fact that you  _ weren’t _ sleeping when I got in on Wednesday.” 

“Not with an audience! And you couldn’t have said something at the time?”

“I mean, I’ve been taking care of myself while you’re on swim duty, a girl can’t live with this much repression.” 

Jen is kind of at a loss for words, so Judy takes another step back and looks at the wall.

“Okay, well, um, we can either put our clothes back on and go take cold showers or…” 

The mental image of Judy  _ taking care of herself  _ makes a compelling argument for the latter. 

“Show me how you like to be touched, Judy.” 

The assertiveness clearly does something for her, because Judy puts her hands together in silent prayer, whispering a thanks to the sky above her. 

Judy moves to her bunk, knees wide on the mattress like she had been in Jen’s lap a few minutes prior. 

“Well, I like to start by teasing myself, getting worked up,” she husks, her fingers dipping into the waistband of her underwear. 

Without the worry of what the fuck to do with her body, Jen lets her smart mouth take over. 

“But you’re already worked up, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, yes, I am, very much so.” 

“Why is that?” 

“Well, Jennifer, you’re a very attractive young woman, has anyone ever told you that?”

It’s the way her voice goes up an octave unintentionally at the end that really does it for Jen- she unbuttons her jeans and begins working the zipper down.

“I think you should take those off,” Jen gestures to Judy’s underwear. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Judy huffs, kicking them off impatiently. 

Jen is… glad to know that Judy wasn’t lying about the  _ worked up _ thing. 

(She’s pretty  _ worked up _ herself, unsurprisingly. She can’t move her fingers much with the confines of her jeans, but at this moment? It’s not a priority.) 

“And after you tease yourself, what then?” 

Judy hisses, clearly working hard to pace herself. She opens her eyes to glare at Jen, then notices that she’s not the only one with a hand down her proverbial pants. 

“Bold move, Jen.” 

“Well, Judy, you’re a very attractive young woman, has anyone ever told  _ you  _ that?” Jen singsongs, feeling a rush at the way Judy’s eyes darken at her tone. 

“After I tease myself, I like to be fucked,” Judy deadpans, before demonstrating _ very _ convincingly. 

Jen kind of loses the ability to speak after that, but it’s not really an issue, because Judy doesn’t take long at all to finish. 

It’s a fucking _ revelation _ .

Boys are like, ridiculous grunts and goofy faces and snoring immediately after. 

But Judy? 

The artist becomes the art. She’s fucking _ transcendent.  _

It’s enough to send Jen over the edge, and as much as she hates the way she sounds when she comes, feels like she looks ridiculous and gross, Judy is looking at her like she’s a literal snack. 

“Talk about a payoff,” she grins, shifting to lay on her side like a fucking pinup. 

“That was… wow.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

Jen’s always used to feeling self-conscious, or alone after sex, while Ted passed out. Judy is just like, fucking joyful, like they just opened presents on Christmas morning and she’s about to make pancakes for brunch. 

“Jen, do you know what the best part about fucking women is?” 

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.” 

“We can go as many times as we want.” 

She hadn’t, in all her imagining, considered this. (It was always, like, a blurry naked blob with them falling asleep cuddled up afterward. Plenty hot, in an abstract way, but not exactly accurate.) 

“I should probably take these off then, huh?” 

Judy nods gleefully as Jen steps out of her jeans. 

“Forgive me if I drool over your legs.” 

“Just don’t look at my feet. It might scar you for life.” 

Judy beckons her to join her in her bunk, pulling the linen over them (why? To protect their modesty? Feels a little late for that, but, sure) and throwing a leg over Jen’s hip. 

“You ready for a little hands-on practice?”

  
She’s never been so ready for  _ anything _ in her life. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for going on this ride with me, y'all! I'm going to keep this novella length- one more flash forward than we're out of this lil au (and i'm back to my true passion; writing perez crack fic)

The last three weeks of camp fly by- now that Judy knows Jen likes her back, now that the interminable yearning is over, it’s like she can’t slow down time, even if she wanted to. 

Duty still calls, and now that the sets are designed, Judy spends more time working with her campers on their final exhibits (which will be shown in the “lobby” of the amphitheater before the show, and during intermission. It’s actually a cool idea- Karen like, totally pulls off an artistic vision) than spending out with Jen, although they still talk outside at night, and have figured out how to sleep in the same bunk but still wake up early enough that the campers (mostly) don’t know what’s going on. 

It’s  _ nice _ , really nice, the honeymoon phase, of stealing kisses behind trees and making heart eyes across the dining hall. Judy tries to enjoy it, tries not to think about what it means when camp ends and they go home. Jen doesn’t seem like the type to attempt a long-distance relationship.

Judy isn’t the type to push back on that. 

She can’t help it though, that sinking feeling that means inevitable heartbreak. 

“Jen?”

“Hmm?” 

“Oh, nevermind, you’re asleep, it’s fine.”

“I’m clearly awake now, Judy. What is it?” 

Judy pouts, now feeling guilty for waking Jen, on top of worrying about the outcome of this conversation. 

“Have you thought about… what you want to do at the end of the summer?”

“Well, I figured I’d go back to school.” 

She says it like it’s the obvious answer; Judy supposes it is. 

“No, I mean, like, you and me, I guess?”

Judy winces at how wimpy she sounds. Like she’s unsure of what she wants- she’s not. Judy knows exactly what she wants but she doesn’t know how to ask for it without sounding pathetic. If she doesn’t say the question aloud, she can’t be rejected, right? 

“Oh. Um, I don’t know, I’ve kind of been trying not to think about it.” 

Jen laces her fingers through Judy’s- it’s nothing short of a miracle how she went from flinching at Judy’s open affection to initiating touch- and puts her head on her chest. 

“Yeah, me too, but I kind of can’t help thinking about it anyway. Or _ feeling _ about it, at least.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Sad, mostly. About losing you .”

“Why would you lose me, Jude? I’ll be in New York, not like, the moon. They do have telephones, you know.” 

(Judy doesn’t know how to explain that sometimes her phone line gets cut off, that she still can’t afford an answering machine, and that it’s hard for her to schedule things in advance, more often than not.)

“I just- what if you get bored with me? What if it’s too hard? I don’t want us to stop talking, even if we don’t, you know, date, or whatever.” 

“Why would we stop talking? Fuck, Jude, I’ll write you fucking letters, if that’s what you want, okay?”

“Really?” Judy can’t help but smile into Jen’s hair. 

“Yeah, with fucking Lisa Frank stickers and rainbow gel pens, and like, touristy fucking postcards from Times Square.” 

“You romantic,” Judy teases. 

“Besides, I graduate this year, and Ted had always talked about moving back home to Laguna…” 

“Well, yeah, but Ted’s not in the picture.”

“No, but California is.”

This is definitely not what Judy expected to hear tonight. But as thrilled as the idea makes her, Judy knows she could never accept the offer. 

“Jen, you can’t move to  _ California _ . You’d hate it there. It’s all... sunshine and beaches and people talking about  _ vibes _ .” 

“Yeah, but that’s you, and I like  _ you, _ don’t I?”

“What if I came to New York? I mean, not right away, obviously, I’d have to save up some money, tie up a few loose ends, but I don’t have anything keeping me in California… I’ve just never had a reason to l _ eave. _ ” 

She feels Jen’s breath hitch, and it’s too much, too soon, and she’s fucked up again,  _ stupid  _ Judy-

“You’d really do that for me?”

“Sure, I can be a starving artist anywhere, can’t I?” 

“I won’t let you starve, baby.” 

Jen is half-asleep again, her warm hand closing around Judy’s forearm, bringing her back down to the present. 

Judy thinks about starving, and about how the French have an idiom, “to live on love and fresh water.” 

If she had a clear spring, she’d probably be set for life.

_ 

Judy likes Ben- he’s honest, unlike his twin, and too much of a genuine dork to even attempt to manipulate others. Sincere, to a fault. 

Judy would say they have that in common, except for the fact that he’s never had to lie to survive. The truth doesn’t always put a roof over your head. 

They work well together, and Judy feels a tug of sadness at the idea of saying goodbye to him, as they set up the campers’ pieces for the final showcase. There’s something different about this year, she knows- most of the staff won’t be coming back, will be getting “real” jobs, or moving elsewhere. Judy kind of feels like she’s in the middle of metamorphosis, that blobby nebulous phase where the caterpillar becomes goop, pre-butterfly. 

(Are there caterpillars that don’t make it out? That just… dissolve and disappear? Good to know what her nightmares will be tonight.) 

“So, um, you and Jen are tight, right?” 

Judy only chokes a little bit on her gum, to her credit. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re close.” 

(They haven’t talked about being out- Judy presumes Jen is absolutely  _ not _ ready for that, given, well, every facet of her personality.) 

“Be honest with me- do you think I have a shot, there?” 

Poor guy. 

(Jen would probably yell at Judy for being sorry for him- it’s clearly counter to her feminist principles, and he’s not  _ entitled _ to have his affections returned, but Judy can’t help but want everyone around her to be happy, even if it means compromising her own happiness.) 

“Um, honestly, I think she’s still pretty burnt up over her breakup with her boyfriend. So, maybe don’t try a dramatic last night of camp declaration?” 

He blushes, and Judy can tell he was planning to do just that, so the bullet dodged more than makes up for her guilt over dissuading him now. 

“Yeah, maybe she’ll come back next summer and be single. A guy can hope, right?” 

Judy wants to stake a claim, to say  _ “no, she won’t be single because I’m going to make this fucking work for once _ ,” but it’s too soon for all of that- the wanting, the hoping, the declaration. 

“He sure can.” 

_ 

Judy  _ loves _ the final performance- she’d heard Jen complaining all week about how the kids just didn’t have the drive to make it in the real world, but they’re sincere, and clearly proud of themselves, and yes, she  _ does _ cry no less than three times during the show. 

This goodbye with the campers always takes longer- they’ve been here for longer, have been coming back for more years, and for some, they’re aging out of camp. Judy always has to give a hug to pretty much everyone, even if they weren’t in her cabin or the art program, and a 5:00 pm send-off is usually 6:30 or 7:00.

(Jen’s line may be shorter, but she clearly has a  _ few _ fucks to give, at the end of the day. She may think she’d gotten away with mentoring her campers without notice, but Judy saw that nurturing side come out, in talks about boys and guidance on breaking in pointe shoes. Judy wonders if she wants to be a mother, some day. They haven’t talked about it, not in a real sense.) 

When all’s said and done, Pastor Wayne and Nick build a fire, Karen mixes mango margaritas, and Michelle sets up the world’s most beautiful taco bar, before leaving to go back to Portland.

( It feels like unfinished business to Judy, like a missed opportunity to make things right- to Michelle or to herself- but sometimes there’s not a resolution. Things just  _ end _ , before they really start. )

It’s a nice bookend to their first weekend here, a bonfire on the beach. If Steve were still around, he’d probably demand everyone do shots and get just as wasted as they did the first time around, but in his absence, things are much more peaceful. 

Wayne and Nick strum guitars, as the conversations ebb and flow, Karen dropping in and out of harmonies on “Passionate Kisses” and “No Rain.” 

Judy wraps an arm around Jen and joins in on “Closer to Fine” (and, honestly, Pastor Wayne might be the real lesbian here, if his song choice is any indication), while Jen rolls her eyes and leans into the touch. 

“What is this, a fucking romantic comedy?” 

“Oh, come on, live a little, Jen. Let your life be the movie!” 

And when Wayne plays the intro to “Linger,” Jen sighs, admits she fucking _ loves _ the Cranberries, and throws her head back and sings.

_ And I'm in so deep _

_ You know I'm such a fool for you  _

Even Perez joins in on the last chorus.

_ You’ve got me wrapped around your finger _

_ Do you have to let it linger _

_ Do you have to, do you have to,  _

_ Do you have to let it linger? _

It feels good, tonight, to be loud and happy and young. 

_

Jen’s flight is Sunday afternoon; by Saturday night she, Judy, and Perez are the only ones remaining at Beach Haven. Judy assured Pastor Wayne that she’d be more than happy to drive Jen to the airport, and he eagerly left for home. 

Perez isn’t sentimental, but she makes a point to seek Judy out before turning in for the night. 

“Ms. Hale, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’ve done a wonderful job this summer” 

Judy knows her smile is probably like, totally face-splitting, but she can’t help it- Perez’s approval means the literal world. 

“Aw, thanks, director. You were great, as always, but you already knew that. But hiring Jen- talk about a brilliant move!”

Perez huffs, clearly uncomfortable.

“We’ve been lucky to have you here at Beach Haven. I sincerely hope I never see you again.” 

“I love you, too,” Judy calls out into the night, as Perez walks away. 

_

All of Jen’s stuff is tightly packed; all that remains in the cabin is Judy’s tie-dyed linens, the small boombox in the corner. 

“I feel like I’m like, not in my body, you know.” Jen muses, curling into Judy’s side. “Like I’m watching myself from a distance.” 

“Like the moment is over, even though you’re still in it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can I help get you out of your head, then?”

Jen smiles, turning to kiss Judy. 

(Judy’s struck by how lovely her teeth are, how rarely the world gets to see the full force of her grin. She’s a lucky girl, Judy is. )

Their physical encounters up to this point have all been rushed, quiet- definitely  _ good, _ but Judy relishes the opportunity to slow things down tonight, to memorize all the things about Jen she will miss. 

The faded scars from childhood accidents, the new freckles on her breastbone from spending the summer outdoors. The smell of her shampoo and deodorant, the feel of her skin against Judy’s lips. 

Judy would gladly call their previous times good old fashioned  _ fucking _ \- that’s kind of the point of your early twenties, that all sex is fucking- but this time...it feels like  _ making love _ , which is both a little cringe, and all-consuming. 

It’s still, like,  _ hot, _ though.

“Fuck, I’m going to miss this,” Jen moans, when Judy buries her face between her legs.

“We can have phone sex,” Judy laughs, “If we can get the time difference right.” 

“My hand, is not,” Jen gasps, “the same as your tongue.” 

(Judy’s mouth is too busy to allow a counter-argument.) 

Judy takes in her taste, the way her legs tremble when she’s close, how sometimes, right at the end, her thighs squeeze so tight around Judy that suffocation is not only a possibility, but a distinct likelihood.

Jen’s blissed out and sleepy after, but she’s adamant about reciprocating (although Judy would be so happy just to have this, just to show her how wonderful she thinks she is- the most wonderful, in fact). 

She flips Judy onto her back like she’s less than weightless, kisses herself off of Judy’s cheeks and chin. 

Judy can’t keep the desperation out of her voice, the compulsion to beg.

“Please, Jen, I need-” 

“What do you need, Judes?” 

(It’s a miracle, really, how Jen is simultaneously so gentle and so demanding. Judy would like to be naked in her bed for the rest of her life, if possible.) 

“You, I need you,” Judy pants, grabbing Jen by the wrist and showing her exactly  _ where. _

And Jen just like,  _ knows  _ that she likes to be talked to, whispers in her ear about how beautiful she is, how good she feels, and it’s- it’s as great as ever, but Judy needs  _ more, _ tonight. 

“Tell me I’m good enough.” 

It’s almost a sob- Judy’s voice breaks before she can reign it back in, she opens her eyes, wide and afraid. Jen moves back, to really  _ look _ at her, and Judy still feels the desire, but the love, this time, is unmistakable. 

“Oh, baby, you’re  _ so _ good. You are so,  _ so,  _ good for me. You are fucking  _ perfect. _ ” 

Judy feels tears streaming down her face as she comes down, and Jen just holds her tight, until the crying stops and her breathing slows. 

“I’ve got you, Jude. No matter what.” 

_ 

Jen commands that there will be no wallowing on the drive to the Airport. 

“Judy, I love you, but I’m not going to spend three hours weeping to Jewel, okay. Let’s fucking enjoy our last hurrah, fucking Thelma & Louise style, okay.” 

“Jen, I don’t want to  _ kill _ anyone! Wait- did you say you love me?”

Jen looks pointedly out the window, as if pine trees were an area of intense interest. 

“I figured you knew that.” 

“I mean, I guess on some level, but to hear you  _ say _ it, it’s something special, Jennifer, I’ll tell you that much. Oooh, I think I still have my “More than Words” cassingle somewhere!” 

“Fuck no.  _ Cosmic Thing _ is the absolute farthest I will go in compromise.”

Judy hams it up, with ridiculous driving dance moves and an exaggerated Kate Pierson impression, and Jen shakes  _ her  _ cosmic thing in the passenger seat. 

(They don’t talk about how “Roam” kind of fucking sucks right now.) 

Eventually, upbeat gets too hard, and Joni Mitchell’s  _ Hits  _ guide them around the city, to the airport. 

(“California” also kind of fuckng sucks right now, which, Judy feels a bit guilty about. Joni doesn’t ever deserve anything but adoration, in her eyes.) 

As Judy parks the car, grabs Jen’s bags (she’ll be grateful, in later years, that she could come to the terminal on this day, that they didn’t say goodbye with the engine running), she hears the blonde humming. 

“Jen I swear to god if you’re singing John Denver to me right now I’m going to marry you, I don’t care if it’s illegal.” 

“Are you going to fucking ‘hold me like you’ll never let me go’ or not?” 

So she does, making promises to send postcards every time she stops, and to call as soon as she’s home. 

The Jen that walks away from her isn’t the one she met two months ago- she looks the world in it’s fucking eyes and dares it to fight back, sure, but she smiles at it, too. 

Once the plane is in the air, gone from sight, Judy starts the long journey home (if she can still call it that). 

She can probably make it to Syracuse, at least- there are hours of daylight, yet, and she's following the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is where the main story is going to end, for now, but i'm not totally heartless- epilogue to come <3


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the happy ending is expounded upon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of the reasons i started this AU was to explore how differently both Jen and Judy's lives could have turned out if they'd crossed paths earlier in their journey- this fluffy epilogue is my answer to that initial question. Thanks for going on the journey with me!

The thing about getting older, is every passing year becomes a smaller percentage of one's cumulative time on earth. 

It’s like life becomes a syndicated tv show, instead of a film, and now there are filler episodes and forgotten plot points and much slower character development. 

But there are still sweeps week moments, cult favorites that get quoted by kids who only caught the program in reruns: 

Jen’s senior year passes in a blur of postcards and pointe shoes, in between avoiding her father at home and Ted’s friends on campus. She dances herself half to death, but it pays off- not only do her professors acknowledge the progress, but she’s taken on legendary “she who must not be named” status with the terrified underclassmen. 

Judy writes her long letters, and she tries her best to answer in the way Judy deserves (open, honest, loving, affirming) and not just fire off a quick reply in between rehearsals. 

When her dad confronts her about the phone bill, she realizes she actually doesn’t want to lie- even if she’s only referred to Judy as a “friend from camp,” and offered no explanation for Ted other than “I need to move back home,” she doesn’t actually want to keep this part of herself from him anymore. 

After proactively offering to cover the long-distance charges, she opts for honesty. 

“Judy is… more than a friend. And, she’s planning to move here after I graduate- we’re going to drive from LA together actually- and we’ll get a place together. So, if you want to throw me out, you can, but maybe wait until then?” 

Her father looks shocked, but, to his credit, not angry. 

“This Judy- she makes you happy? Well, I know the answer to that, the way I hear you giggling all night on the phone.” 

“Yeah, dad. She makes me really happy. She’s honestly one of the only things that’s made me feel happy since-” 

(She wonders if there’s anything that’s brought him happiness since her mom died. If maybe that should’ve been her-  _ could’ve _ been her, if she hadn’t had her head so far up her own ass.)

He looks at her,  _ really  _ looks at her, in a way he hasn’t in years. His eyes are misty, but they also shine with recognition. 

“Well, goddammit, it’s about time one of us had something to be happy about, Jennifer.” 

He pulls her in for a tight embrace, and her body remembers the feeling of being protected from the world like this, even if her mind can’t quite recall it.

“Thanks, dad. I love you.” 

“You know, my old man got on me for running up the phone bill when I met your mother, and those calls were only going across the bridge. You kids these days don’t know how hard we had it.” 

“And you walked barefoot through the snow to school, uphill both ways, yada yada yada.” 

“I hope this Judy has better manners than you.” 

“She’s from California- she might call you dude.” 

“Oh, jeez. I can deal with you being gay, or bi, or whatever the kids are calling it these days, but I’m not sure I can let you bring a fuckin’ hippie home.” 

“She’s honestly- she’s a lot nicer than me, dad. She’s a good influence.” 

He nods, seemingly approving (and Jen is glad that her phone conversations with Judy have been fairly tame, because she has a feeling that part of his easy acceptance is him already having figured it out). 

“Is this where I get to tell you I never liked that Ted jerk much anyway?” 

“You know what, Dad? Me neither.” 

_

It’s easier after that, making plans, letting someone else know about the new world she hopes to build on the other side of her degree. Judy insists on talking to her father the next time she calls (and Jen explains everything), and she can tell by his laugh that he’s almost as charmed by Judy as she is (it would be hard not to be). 

Jen hops a plane for LAX the day she graduates. Judy meets her at the airport, and they sleep on the floor of her soon-to-be-vacated apartment, too exhausted to do anything but revel in quiet closeness. 

Judy teaches her to drive through the flat desolate stretches of Nebraska and Iowa. They sing along to the mixtapes they mailed back and forth, improvise bad lyrics to random country stations, talk and talk and talk, about everything and nothing. 

Jen has had stress dreams, about Judy seeing her and not recognizing her, or falling out of love with her, or simply becoming bored with her company, but now, in the Judy’s old Mustang in the middle of nowhere, she knows that she will never, ever, be tired of riding shotgun, if Judy’s behind the wheel. 

_ 

They move into a shitty studio in the village, that Judy manages to make vibrant and welcoming, with plants, and paint on the walls, and artwork covering every available surface. She somehow makes more friends within a month of moving to the city than Jen made in all her years of school, but it doesn’t make Jen feel jealous- Judy treats them like a package deal, and her myriad pals accept and welcome her, too. 

Judy cries when she sees snow for the first time, and insists on going all-out with Christmas decorations.

Jen actually starts booking gigs (it doesn’t hurt that she’s firmly out of the ballet world, now, and all the bridges she burned)- starting with sketchy blackbox productions and one-night-only avant garde performances, with waitressing gigs on the side, but by her mid-20s, she’s on the chorus line more often than not, and at the first call for most sub gigs. Judy’s found her way into a few of the up-and-coming galleries, is so genuinely supportive and uplifting of her fellow artists and genuinely believes that a rising tide lifts all ships. She reminds Jen, on the days when it’s easy to be catty and competitive, that being the “best” is never worth having no one next to you at the top. 

There are months where it feels like they hardly see each other, except to sleep and maybe, if they’re lucky, share a morning coffee, but then Judy reminds Jen to take time, to explore the sights she’s always taken for granted.

Jen reminds Judy that lesbian bed death, isn’t a thing, actually. 

Jen’s dad insists they come over for dinner when they’re free, welcomes Judy as his own, thanks her for looking after “his Jennifuh” since she insists on being all grown now. 

Judy’s presence helps Jen to be happy when her dad introduces a woman he’s been seeing, a nurse who took care of her mom, that he’d reconnected with in one of those “only in New York” moments. It stings,still, but Rosemary delights in hearing childhood stories about Jen, never moves to take down a single picture of her mom when she moves into the brownstone, helps keep her memory alive. 

Judy is this thread, through it all, keeping the ties that bind connected, getting the family she always deserved along the way. 

_

After ten years together, Judy asks her to think about, maybe, starting a family. 

Jen knows people do it, even without legal marriage, and they’ve both done well enough and lived frugally enough to make in vitro happen. She doesn’t like babies, but she loves Judy, and she thinks the two of them have learned enough about being alive from one another that they could impart that knowledge to tiny humans. 

Having Charlie nearly kills Judy (and Jen is very grateful for all the friendships Judy’s effortlessly made when it’s their neighbor, Saul, who ends up getting her to the hospital. She’s also very grateful for the advent of cellphones.), but she insists that he’s worth it, that he’s the greatest gift Jen could ever give her. 

He looks like Jude, all dark eyes and strong eyebrows, but he meets the world like Jen, headstrong and angry and soft on the inside. 

When they move to the Hudson Valley in 2012, he tells every kid in his kindergarten class that “he’s really a city kid.” 

_

Woodstock doesn’t feel like giving up, like Jen had always thought it would (when she was 23 and thought abandoning the city was akin to tattooing PUSSY on your forehead). 

For one, Judy  _ thrives _ in a tourist town, and has no mental hangups about selling her paintings to elderly vacationers (“honestly, Jen, I prefer it, because, like, they’re not trying to be cool or make social commentary. They see something beautiful and want to take it home with them, and they take a little piece of me, too.”). 

For another, thirty-six is too old to do 8 shows a week, for much longer, and not become a miserable husk of a person. Balancing teaching and choreography is its own kind of hustle, but it’s at least less demanding on her body. 

It also lets her take maternity leave. 

Judy can’t get pregnant again, after Charlie, and although carrying a fetus is high on Jen’s list of “no thank you’s,” she feels those biological maternal pangs when Judy whispers in her ear at night about giving Charlie a sibling, about how beautiful she would be as a mother. 

(Judy has always been devastatingly convincing.)

Henry comes into the world at 2 am on a Tuesday, slow enough that Jen can get the good drugs, and at least this time they’re married on paper, and the birth certificate is much less of a hassle. 

He looks like Jen, but from the moment he beams at Judy, Jen knows that Charlie has his cosmic counterweight, a wide eyed believer in magic and the inherent goodness of all living things. 

_

Before leaving California, Judy had gone to see her mother one last time, to tell her she was leaving, explain why, hoping for, if not, congratulations, at least closure. 

Eleanor had scoffed and told her that, even in a women’s prison,  _ she _ hadn’t managed to turn into a dyke, so what was her excuse? 

Jen held Judy while she cried about it, and they never spoke of it again. 

Eleanor dies when Henry’s three. 

Jen assures Judy that she has no obligation to cover the funeral costs, that just because she’s the only kin they could find, doesn’t mean she owes her mother shit. 

But Judy wants one last chance to prove herself, so they load the boys into the station wagon (yet another benefit of leaving the city behind) and take them on the road trip they took together so long ago. 

It’s kind of a nightmare, driving two kids seven hours a day for two weeks straight in the middle of summer, but also kind of perfect, in that way adventures with Judy always are. 

On the way back home, they detour up north, to see Beach Haven (or what it used to be- it’s now apparently a Christian Grief Retreat, which, frankly, feels about right). 

Smoking joints out of the hatchback of a Subaru, with two kids asleep in the backseat, is perhaps not the sexy, adventurous life that Jen had pictured for herself twenty years ago, but being here, beside the most beautiful woman the world has ever known (and yeah, she’ll _ still _ fight anyone who attempts to say otherwise), feels better than anything she ever imagined. 

“What are you thinking about?”

Judy exhales into the night air, her smoke blending with the wispy clouds above them.

“Games and prizes, Judes. Games and prizes.” 

“That  _ was  _ a good line, wasn’t it?” Judy laughs, and Jen still wants to kiss her. 

(She doesn’t do much running away, these days, though.) 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Judy nods, “I mean, I don’t think it’ll ever  _ not  _ hurt, all the what-ifs with her, but I’ve done what I can, and that’s all I can ask of anyone else, so I’m going to try to be kind to myself.” 

“You’re a good fucking person, Judy Hale.” 

“You’re a good fucking person, Jen Hale.” 

“Why do we sound so formal? What the fuck is in this shit?” 

Judy giggles, and she sounds twenty again, and Jen is maybe so high she’s time traveling, but that’s okay. 

And this time?

They stay up for the fucking sunrise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so glad this is finished, now i can get back to my true calling, cursed crackships <3


End file.
